In the autumn of 2007, Mr. Burt, along with a few pretty convincing headaches on the occasion of not getting quite enough caffeine of a morning, inspired me to get un-addicted to caffeine.
I tried to slowly wean myself away, reducing my caffeine intake little by little, but I felt like such utter trash the first two days of detoxing that I decided I couldn’t feel worse if I went cold turkey, so I did, and two days later I was completely caffeine free and found I quite liked the feeling of waking up every day without the aid of a stimulant, and, most importantly, not being bound to three latte mug portions of coffee to keep a headache at bay. Like a brave little tailor, I’ve cut my calories and my toilet paper consumption in one fell swoop.
Yet back in my druggie days, when I would stumble into the kitchen with my eyes barely open and could have used a shot of caffeine to wake me up enough to make the coffee, I never managed to do anything quite like today.
As the coffee finishes up brewing, I always fill the bottom of my coffee mug with sugar and a dash of liquid creamer (usually toffee nut or French vanilla, but lately caramel pecan praline because Wal Mart was out of the others). They mix with the coffee ever so better when you pour the coffee on top and let the force of pouring stir them. Also, you dirty fewer spoons, which benefits neither my health nor the environment, but nonethless makes me feel like a less wasteful individual.
Except that today I wasted something other than spoons.
The counter space next to my refrigerator is my coffee station. I suspect, since it’s tucked conveniently between the fridge and the double ovens that it’s meant to be a baking station, but since I’m not quite domestic goddess enough to bake anything other than boxed cake mixes or the occasional banana bread (which has been none to rise up through an oven rack it slipped my mind to remove before baking) and since I certainly am not handy enough in the kitchen to do any baking in such a minimal space, the baking station is my coffee station. If I want to, I can set up my cappuccino machine right next to the normal coffee maker, but I keep it stored away under the stove because it looks too cluttered otherwise.
Anyway, the point (yes, there is one), is that this counter is so conveniently situated for my system of coffee making, because I don’t have to move, turn, or stretch to open the refrigerator, reach into the side and grab my bottle of coffee creamer. I don’t even have to look, because it’s the first one at the edge of the door rack, and I know that curvy, cool, plastic figure anywhere.
Unless the lime juice, also in a curvy, cool, plastic bottle (if taller and slighlty thinner) has been put in the coffee creamer’s spot as I frantically cooked chicken chili the night before.
Clearly I need more sleep, or need to give up giving up caffeine, because this morning I looked into my coffee mug as I poured caramel pecan praline creamer over the sugar that it was not as white as usual. Or as thickly creamy. Or as faintly sweet-smelling.
In fact, it was rather green and watery and bitingly acerbic.
Which made a lot of sense when I looked at the bottle in my hand and saw that I was pouring lime juice into my coffee mug.
But this is why I knew it was the smartest bet to put sugar and creamer in my mug before the coffee: because if something goes amiss then, you’ve at least not ruined your coffee.
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