About four steps out the deli door, the mushed parts of the brim started dribbling hot hot coffee. I walked the next three blocks to my office with my coffe cup as far away from my stone-colored slacks as I could hold it, cursing the deli and everyone around me. The lid fell off about halfway there. Just as I stepped in the building, the cup slid down in my hand and I caught it from hitting the floor with seconds to spare. The steady line of coffee dribble had eroded a line down the side of the coffee sleeve thing, making it useless.
My hands stink and my coffee is now cold. This is not what I needed on a icky humid icky morning such as this one.