Today’s blog post is about coffee.
Coffee is the drink of kings, the nectar of the gods. It’s liquid gold. It’s a vice, a slave driver, a harsh mistress. It’s my crutch, my support mechanism, my soothing neck massage in times of need.
It’s my beverage of choice.
There’s something magical about the first sip of the first mug of the first pot of the day. The way the warmth spreads, sending slivers of heat through your body, jolting your brain cells and blasting away the night’s cobwebs. It takes more than one sip, of course, but the effect begins immediately and builds quickly. By the last drop, you feel just about human enough to tackle the day.
Until the inevitable comedown. The crash. As is the way with all things, what goes up must come down, especially if you take your coffee with sugar. Twice the hit, twice the fall. Sugar is my friend, but coffee is my life partner. Coffee understands me, my quirks and my needs. Coffee loves me.
And I love coffee right back. I love the dark brown taste, bitter and sweet, harsh and smooth. I love the soothing warmth and the gently rising steam. I love the props that hold my eyelids up, and the twitches that shake my fingertips. I love my drug.
Some people can’t get enough of the whiskey, some people are quite partial to their heroin. My mistress is less dangerous, but she has her hooks deep in me just the same. I can’t live without her, though she gets on just fine without me. Such is the way of things.
I could do with a cup right now.