When I was little, I can very clearly remember my grandma microwaving coffee leftover from the morning to have with her lunch. She would put it in a cup - most likely one adorned with flowers that I had given her the Christmas before - and heat it until it was steaming hot. (It always smelled slightly burnt.) And then she would sit at the kitchen table, with her index finger through the cup's handle, sipping away. It was her break between the chores of the morning and the activity of the afternoon. I thought it was so...grandma-like. And icky.
Guess what I just did? Yes, it makes me laugh. And it's a bit scary, too.