I always wanted to be a coffee drinker. It seems such a sophisticated act. Waking early, brewing beans while your bare toes stretch and tap on your hardwood floor, opening the morning paper to your favorite column while sipping out of your over-sized ceramic mug that you picked up on that road-trip through Portland. But alas, coffee and me don’t agree. Once that strong caffeinated beverage hits my blood stream, I’m a mess – senile, paranoid and ideas like, “I should run a Marathon today!” seem reasonable. But I do love that strong aroma and every once in awhile, like today, I give into the temptation and pour myself a cup. So now my hands are shaking and I’m convinced there’s a leprechaun waiting to steal my pot of gold. He’ll get his. Oh yes, he’ll get his.
But here’s to coffee!