My Coffee and Me In the early morning dark, so’s not to awaken Patti, I leave the lights off and zombie-walk to the kitchen. The Coffee Maker appears in my cloudy vision, a beacon of hope, and, at least, an eye opener, for me, the sleepwalker. In my foggy state, I attempt to remember if I prepared the Maker the night before. I open the lid. “I did,” I cry, as I flick the switch to get the java juices flowing, turning mere H2O into Black Water A-Go-Go I feel my way in the dark for the living room recliner. Ahhh, I settle into its great, all-engulfing comfort, safe from toe stubbing, Then, in five, I arise, an upstanding man - sort of - and stumble, again zombie-like, into the kitchen, mumbling “coffee, coffee, coffee,” and pour a cup of black energy. The synapses start to fire. I’m awake! My friend Joe has saved me again.