Caught myself having a detailed conversation in my head to absolve myself of guilt for lying to my librarian. Last time she made an impromptu phone call I was happy to chat, while today I rushed things and said I had a lot of work. It was a lie. My coffee makes the rules, not me. On flower mug days I can chat no problem. If by a stroke of bad luck you call on a fancy mug day then I cannot. Because of the metallic gold rim, you see! It makes this mug unmicrowavable. I can’t reheat my coffee later if you call on Fancy Mug Day. This coffee is lost, I explain in my head, willing her to understand. You can transfer it into another container to reheat it, she counters, reasonably. But that means twice the dirty dishes, I lament. Is my conversation not worth the hassle of washing 1 additional mug? she asks, hurt. I bite my imaginary lip. Sometimes I call to ask if you can guess the unexpected book the nuns borrowed today. I know, and I appreciate it. It was a book about power tools. That’s funny but as I have trouble factoring it in the coffee equation, I settle the matter and decide that lying will be justified if this comes up again. The mug rationale is sincere but rife with complications. This was a productive use of my time. Yet another fruitful imaginary talk, my favourite way to solve delicate ethical quandaries and move forward in life