I love coffee. It's so loyal and obedient. Every morning I wake up and there it is, my "Cafe Girl" mug waiting for me like a good little soldier.
I don't mind the shakes, heart palpitations, and the fact that I can't concentrate after 2 cups. It's worth it. One day, I strode into work, all jacked up. My hair was even curlier due to the java jolt.
My director stopped me, mid-sentence and said, "Kelly, I'm going to ask you a question and I need an honest answer. How many cups of coffee have you had this morning?"
I said, "Oh c'mon, seriously? Okay, three."
Everyone around me let out a moan like, "Goddamn it, it's going to be hours until she comes down from this high." Then they all left for conference rooms for "meetings" until noon.
I confess, I'm a caffeinated gal by nature. I don't wake up, I fucking jump up. After almost 14 years of marriage, my husband is still startled when I start yapping and giggling 5 minutes into the day.
My husband is not a morning man, so this is an area of conflict. I have to consciously pace myself with 10 words here, take a break, 5 more words, take a break...I have to spoon-feed the morning to him or he'll become catatonic.
I've always wanted to be one of those people that drag out of bed, sliding their feet on the floor, and telling everyone to fuck off, but I can't.
I'm just so damn happy to be here. Every day is like a little present waiting to be opened and I can't stand to find out what it will be.