Back in the day, there was not a Starbucks on every corner.
People didn’t walk around with their quad skinny mocha fraps. My mom drank
Folgers crystals. From a can. To tell you the truth, it seemed gross and I had
no desire to drink it. I didn’t start drinking coffee until college – finals time.
Even then, I choked it down and found it less than delightful. It wasn’t until
my 20’s that I developed a true appreciation for the java. When living in San
Francisco, I discovered Spinelli’s – a narrow little coffee shop that, if I lay
down on the floor perpendicularly, I could touch the entire place at the same
time. (I never did this). They roasted the darkest coffee around. I bought
their beans and made my coffee every day. Love was born…
I was out late last night – which for me, is rare… bordering
on never. In addition, I was up in the middle of the night settling my little
teething sir back to sleep. (As an aside, teething is the antithesis of happy).
At any rate, waking up this morning I had that
all-too-familiar cotton head feeling that I know to be utter exhaustion. But I
knew what was waiting for me in the kitchen – my sweet coffee. Does it make me
happy? You bet it does.
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