It’s Monday and this morning I drank coffee.
(Yes, I understand for most of you this is a normal thing, part of your routine, and possibly even part of your very identity. You’ll just have to trust me that this was an unusual thing to have happen to my mouth.)
Now, I subscribe to the strong belief that coffee is an exceptionally untasty thing. I wouldn’t call it nasty, but that’s sheerly because I respect the good that it does in the world.
So I generally avoid it.
And yet, this morning, I partook.
I suppose this is what happens when you’re unexpectedly asked to attend a meeting ten minutes before it starts; when you stayed up late working on other projects; and when h you aren’t utterly certain you’ll even stay awake through the meeting, much less pay attention.
(I should probably admit that it was only half a cup, because I needed room for the disgustingly excessive amounts of cream and sugar necessary to make it palatable.)
(But then I did the same thing after my meeting, so…)
In the midst of all this unusual-for-me caffeine consumption, I had a revelation.
Coffee is medicine.
Coffee is medicine for tired.
Many of you already knew this, but perhaps because you do, in fact, think the stuff tastes good, you didn’t bother to explain this to me.
Shame on you.
This means I can stop thinking that I may as well not drink coffee because I don’t like the taste. I can just drink it to feel like I’m slightly less sleep-deprived on Mondays.
Coffee doesn’t have to be enjoyed! Because it’s medicine!
This is revolutionary.
Is this how addiction starts?