When it comes to coffee, I reckon there are three types of people. Did you catch that? Less than a year in the South, and I’m already using words like reckon.
First, there are those who do not drink coffee. Whether they were born that way or they deliberately refrain, I do not judge. I only feel a deep sorrow for that mug-shaped whole in their life.
In equally depressing news, there is a second group of people, those who only drink coffee when it is convenient. Their first cup of coffee each day is that dark liquid found at the office. Anyone who really loves coffee can never consider that generic brown liquid that sits on the burner too long a treat. Especially if she enjoys cream, because there is no half and half at the office. There is only a powdered chemical labeled non-dairy creamer, probably meant to be saved for an apocalypse, not for peacetime use when there are still cows living and breathing. Every day, though, I behold people shuffling into the office like zombies, moaning, “I need coffee.” Don’t these coffee users know they can brew yummy coffee in their very own homes?
I’ve heard the most preposterous explanations. “Well, my husband doesn’t drink coffee, so it doesn’t make sense for me to have a coffee maker in the house.” I imagine their husbands don’t wear lipstick, either, but women regularly rationalize its purchase in a variety of shades. “I just don’t have time. I like to sleep until the last minute.” There you have it, proof that these people simply do not cherish coffee the way it deserves to be loved and cherished. We make time for the things we love. That’s why we don’t tell our family and friends, “Sorry, I don’t have time for you people, and besides, there are plenty of people at work with whom I can interact. It’s just more practical.” Office coffee is no substitute for real coffee, delicacy that it is.
By now, I’m sure you realize I fall into the third category. When I awake, I savor the anticipation of that simple luxury. My morning celebration for having gotten out of bed consists of two cups of coffee, each with a healthy shot of half and half. Sure, I could sleep an extra half hour by quitting this morning ritual. I could also give up scratching my cats’ ears, reading mystery novels and going for walks. I’d save a lot of time, but why? I work hard, and I think I deserve those small moments of pure indulgence. I don’t just drink coffee. I have a love affair with it. True coffee lovers don’t care if there is coffee at the office. Neither do those who don’t drink it. And yet, the zombies must be appeased. I can’t afford to have them eat my brain.