Comfort is such a funny thing. It takes on such interesting forms. Let’s talk coffee mugs, for example.
Over the years, I have acquired multiple chunky white coffee mugs. They go with all our chunky white plates. I love them because they feel like the mugs at an All-Night Diner: sturdy, dependable, full of ceramic integrity. But, in the morning when I reach for a mug to fill with caffeinated goodness, I do not reach for these.
Embarrassingly, I need to admit that we have TWO shelves of coffee mugs. These guys come from that huge coffee company that everyone wants to hate but secretly loves. They come from all over the globe. They are HUGE so they are perfect for the lazy person’s (Me, me!) morning caffeinating, but they are not my mug of choice either.
These beautiful cups don’t even live in a cabinet. We’ve run out of room. They were carried home by hand by my loving husband all the way from India. I love them and all of their artisanal uniqueness. We serve tea to company in these. I do not drink my morning coffee out of them.
So, what kind of mug is my favorite? I, who think WAY too much about warm beverage accessories and must always stop to give a verbal critique of all the new mugs at Starbucks?
This atrocious monstrosity! I don’t even know how it made its way into our lives. I don’t normally keep seasonal things. I like having simple all-year-round stuff (read: lazy), but this guy isn’t even cute seasonal. It has a scary nutcracker like mailman who seems to be delivering “birdie food” to birdhouses and wrangling them with a candy cane. YET, every single time, I reach my hand into the cabinet, I shuffle past the cute mugs to pull out this ridiculous thing. Explain it to me. I don’t get it.
Side note: if you happen to have a collection of these mugs in your Christmas dishes, please don’t be offended. This is my FAVORITE mug. So, I get it. And, I don’t. All at the same time. Let’s just celebrate how much comfort they bring us, okay?