The Coffee House is surprisingly resilient. While the rest of reality will shut down between the 29th and 31st of February, the Coffee House will remain. Granted, it may be hard to find while the universe is out, but the Coffee House has never had a very good relationship with reality. The CH isn't so much Anti-Reality as much as it's Aunty Reality. She wanders in from time to time without warning, stays for just a bit too long, makes a mess in the kitchen, and buys you more socks. She tends to embarrass you in front of your friends, have odd items stored in the back seat, smell faintly of wintergreen gum and chocolate chips, wear "stylish" hats, and have a few too many cats. She tells strange stories, has an oddly infectious laugh, keeps unrecognizable candy in the pockets of a fuzzy sweater, and knows all of the monkeys at the zoo by name. She takes naps at unusual times, shows pictures of people you don't know, and can trace the most convoluted genealogy. When she leaves to return home, she always leaves some stuff behind. You may find a train ticket stub from 1993, a homemade pin cushion shaped like a platypus, one sock with a snow-globe of downtown Albuquerque stuffed inside the toe, half a stick of gum wrapped in a plastic bag, or a paper clip bent in the shape of Tom Jones. In her absence, Reality returns and Normality rushes in to fill the vacuum. As you wonder why anyone would have a snow-globe of Albuquerque, you realize that while her presence was disruptive, occasionally irritating, or inconvenient, you can't wait for her return.