Just say no to drugs -- unless the drug is caffeine.
My handy Mister Coffee slowly died over the last couple of days. I didn't want to believe it was true. After all, it dripped approximately a tablespoon of tepid coffee into the decanter after about an hour. I tried smacking it, unplugging it, repeatedly punching the "brew" button on and off, but I finally had to accept the sad fact that Mister Coffee had passed away.
Thus, I was marooned on a sad island bereft of sweet, sweet mocha beans. I thought I could fight through it. I had some Diet Dr. Pepper in the fridge, so I guzzled a couple cans, but my surly disposition told me Diet Dr. Pepper was a woeful substitute for the real stuff. (How much caffeine is contained inside a twelve-ounce can of soda, really?)
I finally had to admit the truth -- I am an addict. A caffeine addict.
Step 1 -- I admit I am powerless over caffeine. My life has become unmanageable.
I need go no further than Step 1.
Being without (currently) a mode of transportation, I scraped Amazon for coffee makers I could afford, and most importantly, one that could be delivered TODAY. Nobody could guarantee same-day delivery, so I went to the Target site and paid an extra ten dollars just to get a sleek carafe deposited on my doorstep.
And I got it! Same-day delivery is phenomenal!
So, when I awake in the morning, if the heavens align, I will have a steaming cup awaiting me.
And life will once again make sense.
Everybody's got their vices. Everybody.
This is one that doesn't hurt anybody. Except perhaps my pocketbook.
But I can live with that.
