I love coffee.
I love the way it smells, the way it tastes. I love my morning ritual of making coffee, pouring an obscene amount of cream into my cup, and sipping it while writing or reading by the wood stove.
I love my stovetop espresso maker. I love the new automatic coffee maker I recently purchased, which acts as a magical coffee elf that makes sure my coffee is promptly brewed each morning.
But, sometimes I think I need to give up coffee. I get jittery, or I get headaches or stomachaches, and I consider giving up coffee on a trial basis to see if my symptoms will go away.
And then I throw an internal temper tantrum, refusing to even consider giving up my dearest indulgence and vice for even a day.
I think part of what’s so difficult about giving up coffee is the idea of giving up my identity as a coffee drinker. When I envision giving up coffee, I imagine replacing it with tea. There are lots of awesome things about tea – it’s milder and gentler on my body, it’s easy to prepare at any moment.
But thinking of myself as a tea drinker seems crazy! Tea drinkers are gentle and sane. Tea drinkers are British and kind and relaxed. I’m a coffee drinker. I’m a caffeine addict who drinks 3 to 5 cups a day, often replacing meals with coffees and then having to scarf down carbs to get rid of my jitters. THAT’S WHO I AM.
I’m continuing to explore the idea of switching from coffee to tea, or from coffee to nothing, one day. But it’s already way past my bedtime, so I am pretty sure tomorrow will not be that day.
