It’s mid-morning, so I’m not dangerous to interact with. At least not now. I just need another boost of jet fuel.

Please let them have coffee. Dark, rich, black, coffee. Not tea. Coffee. They said there’d be scones. Doesn’t that means tea? I can’t function properly unless it’s coffee. Please, please, please…

A-ha, coffee! Unfortunately the clinician, George Williams, has beaten me to it. I stare in dismay as he helps himself to the only brewed cup. Okay, I know he’s the clinician and the USDF President but I need coffee. Now. Thankfully, Bill Warren, comes to the rescue and refills the water reservoir. Now to grab my cup.

Uh oh, it’s a new fangled Keurig. How could they do this to me? Where’s the carafe of dark, rich, black, coffee? I peer helplessly at the buttons and single cup packets. This makes coffee? My distress must be obvious because George steps in to offer me a few tips. Put the packet here, your cup here, select a size and press. Seriously? I follow his instructions to the letter and had an almost instant cup of coffee.

Sounds of jubilance fill my head. I did it! I flash a smile at George as I raise the coffee to my lips. Ah, perfect.

“So, George, what do I owe you for the lesson?”