Uugghhh I hate being short

Dragging myself away from my vanity corner was an act of pure charity, but morning demands standards, and standards require proper fuel. I strutted across the rug to the low coffee table, hoisted myself onto a woven floor cushion, and took stock of the situation. Right at eye level sat a grand iced Starbucks tumbler, glistening with fine droplets of condensation. The dark brew inside looked appropriately dramatic, though the green straw stretched hopelessly out of reach above my head. I crossed my arms and delivered an unimpressed huff. If this household expects me to scale plastic like a common circus acrobat for a sip, they are wildly mistaken.