Things seem to be improving in inverse proportion to the amount of sleep I get. WTF? Last night I broke down and I had a real actual (soy) latte with genuine caffeinated espresso. I don’t think I’ve written about my trials and tribulations with the caff, and the half caff, and the caff again, the addiction and the binging and the cold turkey, the sweaty, puff-faced mornings of moaning and near-blind complaining until I had my fix. The shakes. Sometimes, I had the shakes.
Now, only green tea. When I’m feeling crazy, oolong. When I’m wanting lattes, decaf. That’s how it goes. So yesterday, when I got me my latte, just on my way home from work, I was kind of like… hmm. Mmm-hmmm. The barista was all “This is my first hot coffee all day! Iced iced iced. Everyone wants iced.” I nodded to imply that I agreed it was a great break for him to get a momentary rest from his hellish monotony, and to also acknowledge that yes, I am indeed kind of insane.
The cup was painful to hold. I walked home trying not to think about it, the heaty hotness I couldn’t possibly ingest. It was so hot out. When I left work at six the local news had reported 98 degrees. At six o’clock at night! This is no way to live. This is no place to drink hot coffee. I walked home as briskly as I could muster and made no eye contact. I knew what they were thinking.
As the rest of the story goes, I cranked up the AC and within 5 minutes was all set to thoroughly enjoy every hot little drop. I started my work, cooked dinner, watched two Netflix episodes of Six Feet Under, and returned to my work. I slept soundly for a few short hours. I woke up at five and I wrote. He was born, he went to art school, he showed his work at museums you have heard of. His technique was thick and energetic. His point of view, unique.
I’d have stayed home from work, but I was done by 8. So I figured, what the hell. I broke the spell. Might as well. I didn’t mean to rhyme but it’s still with me, the caffeine, coursing through my blood like an amphetamine. A bloody good amphetamine. I’m not even tired. I could go on with my crackhead rambling all day.
Anyway, I guess I’m fixed now. I guess it just took a four dollar espresso drink. Who knew?
