I have honed over many years of little sleep a loyal and steadfast love of coffee. An otherwise exhausting day rejuvenates my inexhaustible appetite for caffeine. I have the ability to drink coffee, hot or cold, sloshing down my arm and staining my shirt. I can drink it black, with milk and once upon a time when I was a novice I thoroughly enjoyed a Timmy’s double double. Sigh. In those inexperienced days when I thought I had the vaguest notion of being tired I gobbled down the cream and sugar with the splash of coffee and thought I was a coffee drinker. Wrong. I was drinking coffee with training wheels. It may have been the tired puffy eyes and poor manual dexterity in the early hours that caused me to stop putting cream and sugar in my coffee, but I suspect it has more to do with the fact that in the morning I could mainline caffeine and I’d still be impatient.
I drink more coffee than I should. How many cups? I know, I know, Timmy’s cups aren’t actually the size of a measured cup but it is called a cup so I am leaving it as the measure. No one has offered to swing by and buy me a bucket, barrel or cask from Timmy’s so I rest my case. If you want to debate this let’s sit down and discuss. If you look thirsty I would be a poor host if I didn’t make you a vat, er, cup of coffee to quench your thirst. And mine.
I must admit I can’t actually say how much coffee I drink. And it’s not because the number is embarrassingly high. Well, not only that. It’s because I make many many cups but due to the fact that with children I very rarely sit or in fact, remember where I put my cup. It seems like it wanders away and when I find it, it’s cold and usually a hair is floating in it. So that can’t count – drinking the hairy cold coffee, right? In days of yesteryear when we visited people – I’ll tell you all about it over a cup someday – I would visit my in-laws and they would always offer me a cup of coffee. Not just any coffee, but a Nespresso. I’d gladly accept. I know you are shocked. Hope you were sitting down. And then because I was again chasing those pesky children I would often seemingly abandon by cup. My father-in-law being the dedicated host he is would then chase after me with cup in hand afraid I would miss out on my drink. Where children went, I followed and closely after that my Nespresso. I assured him my coffee drinking would not be hampered by distance or temperature. I would find my way back. It calls to me.
There is a lot of talk about blends, beans, and origins of coffee. I am no snob. Nor am I a barista. I get nervous thinking of ordering at Starbucks. I can’t grind. That felt like the article took a turn. Coffee I mean. I can’t grind coffee. I don’t have the patience to wait for it to percolate. I want instant coffee. I want Coffee. I am bestowing a capital upon it. It’s been grammar knighted. And yes, it’s a thing. It’s especially a thing after a few vats have hit the bloodstream.