Winging it

One moment I was basking in the eternal glow of the heavens, serenaded by celestial choirs, the next I was blinking in the harsh light of a cramped studio apartment, my wings crumpled and aching from their confinement beneath a pair of ill-fitting jeans. The last time I'd graced this earthly plane with my presence, Nebuchadnezzar II was still boasting about his hanging gardens. Clearly, a lot had changed. To top it all off, a strange contraption with a million buttons and a vaguely threatening hiss sat on the counter. 'Coffee maker,' a label helpfully informed me. Right. Because brewing the nectar of the gods could possibly be this complicated. With a sigh, I braced myself for what could only be an epic battle against this infernal machine. Maybe divine intervention wasn't such a bad idea after all.