Tragedy struck at the cube farm this morning. I arrived at work just before 8:30, not suspecting that anything was amiss. I logged in at my workstation, and as is my morning routine, I trekked to the kitchen for my morning coffee.

That's when I saw it. It was... horrifying. Simply a nightmare image that I can never erase from my memory. It was opened right up -- it's innards were all over the table. Vital fluids dripped into a spreading pool on the checkered linoleum. A repair man was working on the coffee vending machine.

I might have known this would happen. The day I saw them replacing our regular coffee urns with that mechanical monstrosity, I had a feeling that something awful would come of it.

I returned to my desk empty-handed and feeling helpless. Disoriented.

I'm a creature of routine. I depend on it to structure my life. Without structure -- without my morning java -- I'm lost.