When you wakeup to no coffee, a six-year-old’s foot in your face, and the prospect of Armageddon, you know you’re going to have an off day at best. Tommie Moss was surrounded by stack upon stack of food, powdered, freeze-dried, home-canned in mason jars, stored in repurposed two-liters, even vacuum-sealed in plastic. However, she apparently only had one jar of a particular item, sitting in between the powdered milk and the powdered cream: the last jar of instant coffee. This wouldn’t have been a problem, except it was the only coffee on the homestead, and every human being in the house drank coffee. Well, except for Penelope, the aforementioned six-year-old, who had sneaked into Tommie’s bed the night before. Hence why the girl’s foot was in her face that morning.