Last year for mom’s birthday I got her three bags of her favorite coffee. I didn’t know until too late, but she decided to finish her huge warehouse-store sized can of nasty coffee before opening mine.
She didn’t live that long. I just opened the first bag of mom’s coffee, to prepare the coffee maker for the morning. It smells wonderful. Wish mom were here to share it with me. Might as well have some; it’s not like I’ll be sleeping now.
Life is too short to drink lousy coffee.
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