A Letter to Coffee

Dear Coffee,

Thank you. Thank you for being there when I am at my worst. When I have dark circles under puffy eyes and my hair is a giant tangle and it's two a.m. and I've got to get to work, you've never failed to give me the strength to semi-pull-myself-together.

Thank you, I guess, for being the sole reason that I am awake at four thirty a.m. and have now managed to watch over four documentaries on random subjects that I have absolutely zero use for. Heck, maybe someday I'll meet a guy who studies amazonian fish for a living and I'll have something to talk about.

Thank you for smelling so crazy good.

Thank you for coming in both iced and hot forms, as the weather dictates.

Thank you for coming in little tiny cups of Turkish coffee sometimes, with foam on top.

Thank you for coming in giant mason jars with handles and straws and chipped ice other times.

Thank you for being a carrier for sugar and milk and fancy creamers flavored like caramel and cookies.

Thank you most of all for allowing me to pretend I am a fully-functioning adult who has her act together even though in reality I'm sort of making everything up as I go along.

So thanks. You're awesome. I know some people say you're a drug and maybe they are right. Maybe you are a drug. A warm, delicious drug. I don't care. I still love you. Especially when you come in pretty mugs and with cheesecake.

Sincerely,

me

P.S. But decaf sucks.