I'm half the man I can be, without my coffee. And things don't go well when I'm not fired up on all cylinders. Like walking into a store, needing only one item, and walking around for twenty minutes, unable to remember what the hell that one item was.
No coffee tells my brain it's okay to drive the kids to school with slippers on. Being uncaffeinated convinces me that my husband's V-neck sweater pseudo pajamas pass for clothes at the school scholastic book fair.
Oh, yeah, no coffee is no good.
No coffee makes me think I can put a twisty tie in my hair and it's a hairdo.
No coffee makes me turn up the radio dial when I want more heat in the car.
No coffee and my 11-year-old son's winter boots don't look so bad on my feet.
No coffee and the mailbox with that morning's newspaper just seems ssssoooo far away.
No coffee and I pack five fruit roll-ups as the kids' lunches (it'll be a fun surprise!)
No coffee and emptying the dishwasher feels like I'm lifting stone slabs up the sides of the pyramids.
No coffee and I'd rather walk around with one hand pulling up my pants all day than go all the way to the bedroom upstairs into the closet to get my brown belt.
Coffee is good and coffee does good. It connects the wires in my brain into the slots where they're supposed to go and makes shouting back at talk radio in the mornings a fun thing.
Coffee makes me into an Olympian and I can do an hour walk on the treadmill on a steep incline and as long as the radio is on to permanent hearing damage range, I don't get bored.
One of the first jobs I gave to my children as soon as they could pull a kitchen stool up against the counter, was that of measuring out two heaping scoops of Folger's grounds. I have the water set, and all they have to do is push the button to start the gurgling. Our household has grown to find the snoring lion sounds of our Mr. Coffee in the morning a soothing thing.
To my children, the sound of coffee bubbling and perking is a promise to them, that they won't be eating six packs of Pringles for lunch that day.
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