Recently, I purchased a terrible bag of coffee from a local shop out of desperation. We'd been out for two days and woke to our morning routine disturbed by a sheer inability to make a list, to carry out a simple task.
That morning I'd woken up, as certain of this tragedy as I had been the morning prior. Then shame crept in: If you knew it was a problem, why didn't you solve it before it got worse? So I dressed and stepped out with my dog at 6:45 a.m. We wandered slowly over to the café, aware that it opened at 7, and in addition to a large coffee, I got the bag of beans, sensing that I should be punished for this unorganized way of living by paying a premium for a mediocre product.
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