I was born with a rare, socially damaging condition. I believe the technical name for the disease is WhiteLieusInterruptus. You see, there is no filter between my brain's reaction centre and my rubber face. If I think something's gross, a horrified sneer will appear across my nose and upturned lip before I can will myself to say "Oh, yes, please, a cup of monkey-brain soup would be just delightful."
If I like you, you'll know. If you bore me, I'll yawn. If you offer me something offensive, like steamed Brussel sprouts or monkey brains, you'll know I'm offended before I can form a verbal response.
So if you'd asked me ten years ago if I loved coffee, you would have witnessed 'the sneer'. I was a different person then. I took four classes per semester at university. I rode the bus for an hour and a half each day and had trained myself to wake up just before my stop. (Unfortunately, I never learned the fine art of drooling on myself instead of others, but that's a story for another blog on another day.)
I went to bed when I wanted, rolled into class when I felt like it, and only saw four a.m. bedtimes or wake up calls when I'd forgotten to start finish a term paper that was due the next day.
Then I grew up, got married, and duty called. My love affair with coffee began somewhere between my alarm clock going off at 3:15am and my 4:30am start time at my airport job.
I really liked my time there. No, I'm not claiming that I loved the early mornings, or that I basked in the glow of the lost luggage department where I spent so many hours. But I met my true love at the airport. And its name was coffee.
I can't say that I'm a mindless follower of any particular chain. Tim Horton’s and Starbucks both have multiple outlets at the Vancouver International Airport. But I have to admit my love affair began with Starbucks. They made me fall in love with the brew. They created my dependency. I hold them entirely responsible.
I blame Starbucks, you see, because they put up shop about one hundred yards from our airport check in counter. If you stood very still and closed your eyes, you could hear the hiss of the espresso machine rise over the hum of the bustling airport.
I tried to resist, but more often than not the 3:15am wake up calls would get the best of me, and I'd need that little jolt of caffeine to keep me conscious on many a morning.
It didn't help when we bought our first apartment. Although we were on the fourth floor, Starbucks had set up shop on the ground level. There was just no escaping it. Every time I walked out the front door of our building, there it was. The white and green sign, that Siren on their logo. Calling me. Beckoning. Come. Drink the coffee. You can't live without me.
And they were right. I tried, you know. When my husband and I toyed with the idea of becoming parents biologically, I tried to kick the caffeine habit. I still remember the day I gave up the black beans of addiction: December 19, 2006. I'd gone to a particularly wild boring holiday party the night before, and found I had no appetite for coffee the next morning.
Since we were hoping to get pregnant, I knew that drinking caffeine was not the best for our potential babies. So I gave it up cold turkey.
It was an ugly experience. I had headaches for weeks. I was moody. Depressed. I had vivid nightmares about the Starbucks mermaid holding me underwater in a sea of caffeine beverages, daring me to inhale. "You know you can't live without us, mere mortal! Breathe! Inhale the cappuccino, or you will be cast into the sea! Latte up!"
I lasted about a year, and then relapsed. Or should I say resigned myself. I'm no quitter, darn it! I've re-embraced my addiction. Now I have one cup in the mornings (which is really equivalent to six or seven cups, because my husband, our house's brew master, likes his coffee thicker than his oatmeal.)
I really love my coffee, and on days when we're out of beans or out of cream, I find my heart grows a little heavier until I get my fix. Either that, or maybe my respiratory rate is just
settling back into its natural, coffee-free rhythm!
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