Coffee tastes funny.
That, other than the constant pain in the back of my throat, seems to be a fairly decent indication that I might have caught some sort of a “bug”. I may be what they call “infected”. I blame the open window that allows the gentle caress of midnight wind to roll across my brow. I am sure these coolness particles that possess the air when the sun has run away from our mortal plane are carrying these bits of evil that have taken root in my throat.
Or maybe I just buy cheap coffee.