On Caffeine

It should go without saying that I'm fairly addicted to caffeine. I feel mildly sorry about that. I remember when I used to wake up with energy at 5:30 in the morning. Yeah, I wasn't normal.

Anyway, I'm addicted, but I try to manage my intake to just the right level. Lately I've noticed that a lot of my angst starts to build when I'm compensating for too little sleep with too much coffee. That's when I'm most likely to make snide remarks about people's drink orders and not feel the least bit sorry about it (until the next day). Well, I can't really recall making snide remarks in particular, but others assure me that I do, so I must.

The past couple of days I got plenty of sleep and drank less caffeine. I happily poured nonfat milk into some lady's Ethiopian Yergacheffe. I did not scowl when some guy ordered a skinny latte (though I did, kindly, tell him to please call it 'non-fat'). "What is wrong with me?" I querried. "Where has your angst gone?"

It actually is a better to live without the angst, I guess. I mean, I'm not overly proud that I've been called a coffee prima donna. Entertained? Yes.