There are many mornings when I am out of bed long before I wish to be or I have gone to bed long after I meant to. On those days, coffee is my savior. However, on days when all my cicada rhythm is on track, coffee can be my downfall. Sitting around chatting with friends over a nice hot cup of Joe seems all well and good until bedtime a few hours later.
So this morning I sort of have a “coffee hangover.” My friend Bridget makes some of the best coffee I have ever had. I love the stuff and almost always over indulge. Add on to that her charm and I would sit at Bridget’s table sipping coffee and laughing all day. Of course then I wouldn’t ever sleep.
That is the other think about this amazing coffee. It is strong. Strong, like I barely believe that it is legal, strong. My coffee gives me a gentle nudge as I bop along my day. Bridget’s coffee puts you in the driver’s seat of the Bullet Train with a broken break.
Well, I rode the Bullet Train yesterday and now my train, my fuzzy head and I are in the proverbial ditch the next morning. I wish that I could say that I would know better, that I will fight the sirens call, but I know that I won’t. Of all my vices, I just can not let go of a good cup of Joe.
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