"What? No. What?" the usually chipper lad at the cafe said.

I stood my ground.

"Yes, that's right, I'd like a cappuccino today. Made with soy milk, please."

His confusion was growing.

"But you have a long black. Actually, you have TWO long blacks. Long blacks, that's what you have," he said.

Another cafe kiddie was summoned.

She looked at the order, then looked at me.

"Soy cap? That's odd," she confirmed.

Predictability is not my shtick. I like change. It keeps me on my toes. It tests my adaptability and all that grey matter that has been enjoying a free ride in my brain box.

It appears the grey has faded to black.

It's just one long black stretch. Actually, it's two long black stretches. Doubly dull.

I was going to explain to the cafe kids that I used to have cappuccinos, but realised that milk didn't agree with me.

I cancelled the cappuccino and engaged the long black.

It was an early example of cancel culture.

Clearly cappuccino cancel culture didn't take off. Probably because social media wasn't a thing then. I'm sure my beverage ban would have gone great guns with the benefit of a few fiery Facebook posts setting out how milk offended my gut lining. My claims would have been backed by research carried out by some of the greatest minds on Facebook who got a science degree through an online Russian university.

But, back at the cafe counter, I kept my explanation to myself. I turned my back on the confusion and took a seat.

The still bemused cafe lad brought my coffee with a theatrical flourish.

"Sometimes I don't think I even know you at all," he said dramatically.

Channelling Bette Davis in her grumpy golden years I said "And that's the way I like it dear."

It was all fun and games until I tried the cappuccino. I instantly regretted it, and remembered why I had switched brews.

I cancelled it again. It was back to black.

The next day I was back for another coffee (predictability concession: if you find a good cafe, stick with it).

"Sooooo, what will you be having today?", coffee lad asked.

"Long black please. I'll get another later," I said.

He seemed relieved. I took a seat. All was well. Well, it was, until I was confronted again by my little friend's confused face.

"What? No. Why are you sitting here? You usually sit over there," he said.

Unpredictability is my shtick.

I see no reason to change.

Backyard blues

Search for cicada nirvana

Splitting hairs

Questioning my Aussieness

Shot at the Wall of Shame

Braced for seasonal stink

Ode to a cheesy slice of heaven

Thrill of the drill

The Sheriff of Shirtyville

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