The day began typically. I overslept, forgot to put on deodorant, scarfed down breakfast, and left my lunch in the fridge. I almost missed the subway and in my mad dash, nearly knocked over two tweens. It's like freezing out and I forgot my coat, so I can't move my fingers. Once I made it here, I got "the look" from my supervisor, Brenda, because I was a whopping 10 minutes late. Half the office isn't even here yet. How is that fair?

So, finally, I sit down at my desk and take a deep breath. It's nice to have my own cubicle. Four little half walls to claim as my own space. Ahhh. What am I supposed to be doing today? Wait. What day is it? Shoot. It's Wednesday. Staff meeting. Groaan.

I take off my purse and set it down. I'm cold. Coffee. I need coffee. I skipped that step this morning. You know, the whole wake up and greet the day over "Foldger's in your cup." I hum the jingle. Do they even make that stuff anymore? God- those commercials were on when I was a kid. Standing up slightly, I peer over the front wall of my cubicle. The break room is opposite me. Five cubicles separate us. That is where the coffee lives. I love coffee. Mmm. Coffee. The break room is my friend. I nod good morning to it. I begin to sing to it, swaying my head seductively.

"The best part of waking up..." I startle and hide. An obtrusive, yellow blob has interrupted my morning sonnet. Divided from my love, I shudder. It was Cynthia. Cynthia. 200 lb, "relaxed fitted jeans", sour faced, blue eye-liner, Cynthia.

"I saw you Seeny! Yes I did!" She shrilled. My name is Syna: pronounced "see-nah". It supposedly means beautiful in some language, but I think my parents just made it up. Stoners.

Anyway, I groan and reappear.

"Morning Cynthia." I drone. She frowns at me.

"You are a wierdo." She informs me, darting down. Wait, let me rephrase. Cynthia does not dart. She does not fall into the "darter" category. Cynthia wobbles and undulates. So we'll say she wobbled into her chair in a "fast manner". I roll my eyes. Ok, whatever Cynthia. I'll race you. At anything.

A dust ball from the ceiling falls on me. Well, it floated onto my shoulder, landing so gentle, wanting to be my friend. I smelled it first. Must. Yum. Lucky no one saw it.

"I saw that Seeny! Yes I did!" Cynthia guffawed across the room. I brush off the bunny, it leaving a trace of dust on my shirt. A kiss of dust. Awh, what a good friend. I feel like a Swiffer mop.

I swear, this office is out to get me. At least every other day some random occurrence nearly destroys me. Whether it's the coffee maker falling on me, the Xerox machine nearly decapitating me, or the front door slamming on me, something happens! And that was just this past week. I'm looking around right now trying to secure myself. Pencils, in the pencil holder. Computer monitor is steady, the bottom part potentially wobbly. Note to self: beware the PC.

"Ouch!" I yelped. Yes. I yelp. Not to be confused with "holler" or "scream" because yelping is completely different. Commonly associated with a kicked dog, yelping is a useful tool in expressing one's surprise and or pain in order to draw quick and undivided attention. Plus mine is cute and feminine. So there. It's an art.

Anyway, someone pinched me, on the butt. That's why I yelped.

"Hey sexy," a voice sings to me. It's male- so that's promising. I turn and see Bobby, the former geek turned horrifyingly confident seducer after he lost his virginity to... someone... cough... ok... me.

"Oh, hi Bobby." Chills.

"You up for dinner tonight, lovely lady?"

"Oh Bobby, how sweet of you to ask..."

"Friday's?"

"Bobby..."

"Chili's?"

"Bobby..."

"Chi-chi's? Oh wait, they closed. Isn't there a drug store there now?" He cocks his head and stares into space.

"Yeah- that was like two years ago."

"What's there now? Walgreens? Wawa?"

"Yeah, uh, I think it's a Walgreens slash bank."

"Nifty." He refocuses. "So, how about sharing some sustenance? You have to be feeling better by now. I've asked you everyday this week. You look fine. A little pale... but that could be a blood pressure thing. Seriously, what are your symptoms again? Need some more of this extra-yummy loving? I know you gotta be missing this." He waves his index fingers at his crotch and raises his eyebrows repeatedly.

"Wow."

"Impressive right?"

"I need some coffee."

"What?"

"Coffee. Must have coffee. Can't process this." I circulate my palm at him and squeeze pass him, my free hand pressed on my brow. The walls are my guide. I can't see straight. I have 10 maybe 20 minutes to get caffeine in me before system meltdown. And when I say system meltdown, I mean nuclear, evacuate the surrounding counties, federal disaster, meltdown. Almost there. Just around this corner. Avoid Cindy. Open door... oh I can smell it!

I push on the door. It doesn't move. What? I look at my feet, (for some reason), and then realize this is a "pull" door. Closing my eyes, I exhale, and like a fully functioning person, I open the door.

There it is. The coffee pot. No one cares for it like I do. My baby. Come here baby! Ahhh yes. I pour myself a cup, add a little splenda, a little creamer and lean against the counter.

"Mmmm. Oh yes." I slurp and spit into the sink. "God! Why is it cold?" I look around me. Why is it cold? Did anyone make coffee this morning? Obviously not. Now I'm pissed and march to the office. The door refuses me again and I coach myself... pull... I face the masses.

"Attention! Attention! Everyone! HEY!!" I receive maybe 5 blank stares. I know for a fact that there are at least 20 people here now- can they not have the common curteousy to listen? Whatever. I return to my soapbox. "Who didn't make coffee this morning!? Seriously people, have a little decency to at least help out your co-workers. Who do you think you... ouch!"

I am interrupted by another pinch.

"Bobby please..." I turn and am face to face with Cindy. "Oh hey... did you make coffee this morning?"

"Bobby? What's going on with you and Bobby?" She sneers at me.

"What? Nothing. What do you want? Why doesn't anyone listen to me? I am the only one who takes care of that machine and the one day that I don't make the coffee because I run a little on the late side