Diary of a Caffeine Addict

11 Dec

Wisps of snow cascade across the the sidewalks as I trot to work. I’m not eager to get there or anything; though I don’t mind my job, it’s still just a job. I dream of the day when I might skip to a job at The Globe and Mail or the Toronto Star, or Maclean’s. I have even more pie-in-the-sky fantasies of running between jobs at Vanity Fair and The New Yorker, in one of my favourite cities in the World. Sigh. Anyway, the point was this lovely Friday morning, not my fantasies. The point was that the reason I was happily trotting to work- and yes, I’m aware of the grotesque use of an adverb, because I knew Starbuck’s was around the corner. This isn’t an advertisement for the coffee shop by any means.  I’d drink coffee from pretty much anywhere, with the exception of Tim Horton’s. I do have some standards. My point was that I really look forward to that first sip of coffee every morning. For that brief instant, everything is right with the world as my lips make contact with the warm, toffee-brown liquid. I don’t swallow either. I sip, sure to savour the flavour and those first few gulps because the world is just better with caffeine coursing through your veins. The second and third sips are never that good and I usually abandon my coffee halfway through drinking it because nothing can ever compare to that first taste or the anticipation of it.

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