Spilling coffee down the hall

After waxing eloquent on "The Lady with the Pet Dog" in class this morning, I sauntered to the student union building, where I deposited my local taxes in a US mailbox. I decided I could use some coffee, and, facing the dilemma of choosing between Java City and Starbucks, I opted for Starbucks this time. Earlier in the morning I had responded to a Zogby consumer survey; one of the questions was to describe what kind of human being I was: a Starbucks coffee man or a Dunkin Donuts man. Having never considered human nature from the perspective of coffee brand preferences, nevertheless I chose Starbucks. As I made my way back to the office, a cup of piping hot Breakfast Blend in tow, I carefully negotiated my path up the stairs and through the doors, my cup teetering atop a notebook. I made it through the doors into the hallway, but as I turned to go down, I gripped the cup too tightly, which along with the force of my sudden turning, sent the hot brew cascading out and down the sides, splattering the tiles. I rested the cup on a nearby waterfountain and ran cold water on my right hand, which was burning from the accident. I tried to fit the lid more securely around the rim of the paper cup, but the lip was soggy and disfigured, making the fit tenuous at best. Midway down the hall, another spill and splatter on the tiles, and by this point I was at risk of losing the whole cup. Adding comedic tension to the scene was my farcical attempt to keep the coffee from spilling on my light coloured trousers, upon which even the scantest of coffee blemishes would have proved most unseemly. The trousers, at this hour, have escaped a tragic fate, but the day is young; Phoebus has not completed his sojourn 'cross the sky. I cleaned up my mess discreetly with paper napkins. If I am indeed of the Starbucks race, I am a bumbling member of the clan, and were my Starbucks brethern to know of my sloppy, butter-fingered ways, they might well ostracize me to the societies of Wawa minions, Truckstop clans, Roadside diner mavens, even the dreaded Dunkin Donutians. How can one enjoy Breakfast Blend in the face of such ineptitude? How to enjoy the subtle bouquet of flavors stored in each bean? I am not worthy of Starbucks. The insulating sleeve on my cup says that it is made from 60% post-consumer recycled fiber. Et tu, O' insulating sleeve? The hapless post-consumer, I'm feeling fibrous and more than a little recycled. And it's Friday.