May Your Cup Runneth Over

I’m gonna pick on my partner here for a minute. Every weekday morning, seemingly without fail, he will be the first awake and the one to summon the caffeine gods by setting the kettle to boil, making fresh pressed coffee for us both. This simple act is one that I cherish and am grateful for. And, each time that he graciously pours me a cup, he manages to fill it to the ab-so-lute BRIM. This inevitably means that he either burns himself or me in the transporting of the overflowing mug, a trail of coffee is left from the kitchen to wherever I may be in the house at the time it’s received, or both.