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I lost another coffee mug not long ago, but this time I had to find it. Mug mortality is high with me because I always have one in or near to hand. I used to break them frequently, but since I switched to steel, I’ve managed to destroy only one. Now the problem is loss. Perhaps I collect coffee mugs as a subconscious hedge against attrition. In addition to a cabinet shelf full of mugs from all over, the ceiling beams in the kitchen are festooned with dozens more hanging from brass hooks. Barb won’t let me expand the overhead display to the living room, so I’ve slacked off on buying more. I’ve lost many mugs from truck bumpers and airplane tails. I’d set a cup of coffee on the bumper while I was scraping frost or putting things into the truck. On rare occasions, I’d find the mug intact when I got to town, but more often it fell off within a mile. When I flew small airplanes, I’d start out to the flight line with a mug in my hand to unchain the wings and tail. Half an hour into the flight, I’d wonder where my coffee was. After the first few times, I didn’t have to wonder. I knew I’d find the pieces on the ramp a couple of feet behind the tie-down where it had blown off the tail when I started the engine. I’d lose mugs now and then, most often while fishing. Once I lost a favorite mug from Maine when surf overturned my small boat on the beach at Freshwater Bay. I found most of my gear when the tide went out, but I didn’t find the mug. Other mugs simply jumped overboard and sank. I took care of my first steel mug. It cost a lot of money, probably because it said Starbucks on it. But it kept coffee warm a long time, and the plastic lid didn’t affect the taste. It was too good a mug to ever set down on a truck bumper, but I did set it on top of the back tire a few weeks ago, just for a couple of seconds. A few minutes after I’d moved the truck for some reason, I wondered where my cup was. After I pulled it out of the gravel, I tried to make it round again in a vise, but the steel cracked and I threw it away. I couldn’t find the same style in local stores or in several Starbucks stores across the country, so I settled for one the same size that is shaped like a tulip bloom. It’s not as stable as the old one, and it cost more, but I’ve grown attached to it. I got tired of losing the lid, so now it’s also attached to it——with a lanyard of braided nylon cord. That is the mug I lost not long ago. I’d had it in my hand when I left the hotel in San Juan one Sunday morning in search of an English-language newspaper. There were none in Walgreen’s or in the Shell station’s convenience store. I finally found a paper in the 24-hour supermarket nearly a mile from the hotel. I was most of the way back to the hotel when I realized I no longer had my expensive steel mug. I dropped off newspaper in my room, made sure my mug wasn’t in the room, and retraced my steps. I was certain I’d had it when I left the drug store, so I continued to the supermarket and asked at the checkstand if I’d left it there. My Spanish is inadequate for finding lost coffee mugs and the young checker’s English was no better, so, after being directed to the coffee section a few times, I retraced my route through the aisles. No mug. Maybe I’d left it in Walgreen’s after all. I was almost there when I remembered the Shell station. I turned around and walked back the half a mile to the station. I didn’t see my mug near the newspaper rack, so I asked the clerk in her glass cage. I wasn’t sure she understood me, but she shrugged convincingly. I looked around inside the cage and there it was! It was good to have it back. I’d have had to buy another ceramic one to get me through the rest of the week. Barb’s eyes would have rolled if I’d come home with a new one, and it would probably have broken inside a week besides.
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