Coffee, Coffee, Coffee


April 24, 2013 by ebostick1212

It doesn’t surprise me that I am sitting in a café right now, writing this.  It seems to me that most my inspiration comes while I am sitting in a bustling hole in the wall, staring into a glass of milky liquid.

I’ve never really had any vices.  I’ve never been a big drinker, apart from the odd glass of wine with dinner, and after seeing many people struggle to quit, I vowed never to try cigarettes.  And yet, the long ebony claws of coffee addiction seemed to have grasped at me.

I didn’t even like coffee until a couple of years ago, when I moved to France and started a steady diet of noisettes, espresso with a touch of milk.  Even then, I was able to stop, and switched back to the lesser evil–tea, when I moved back to England.

The beast awaited me as I moved to Spain, where a morning espresso is the norm.  I quickly fell back into my old caffeine fueled ways.  With everyone crowding around the coffee machine at recess, and  free time between private lessons, I often find myself sidling up to a scalding cup of café con leche.  Sometimes three times a day.  And this isn’t the watery American stuff…this is the good stuff that gives you the jitters after one cup.

As an already nervous personality-type, I am aware that this is probably not a healthy decision, and so I find myself trying to cut back.  I order a leche manchada, more milk, less espresso, but I can’t stop, I get withdrawal headaches.   I have to tell myself that it isn’t cutting back if I double the amount of manchadas I drink.   It is like I’ll be injecting it into my veins, soon.

While I guess there are worst things to be addicted to, I still shudder to think how much money I’ve spent on coffee this year.  50 cents there, one euro here,  but it all adds up.  Rather, I stare pensively into my empty cup and tell myself that this caffeine is a good thing, it will get me through a long day with the kids, and then private classes.

I say that until I lie in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, cursing the fact that I drank three cups of liquid nervousness.  I toss and I turn, and when the first rays of sunlight wake me in morning, I pry one eye open and think ‘God I need a cup of coffee…’.

It is a vicious cycle, and one that I probably won’t be escaping soon, considering the full work days ahead of me.  But hey, at least I’m not drinking Starbucks.*

*This is a lie.  I do drink Starbucks.

6 thoughts on “Coffee, Coffee, Coffee

  1. Coffee is a virtue, not a vice – unless, of course, you’re one of those people who adulterates one’s coffee by adding milk or cream or sugar or other substances.

    In the words of a song my dad wrote several decades ago, “make it coffee strong and black” (but not Starbucks coffee: friends don’t let friends drink Starbucks).

  2. trishagale says:

    When you are traveling in a city you don’t know……..Starbucks, like McDonalds, has a clean toilet and wifi!!

  3. Friends don’t let friends drink Starbucks.

  4. […] kicked my diet coke habit, and subsequently fell into a coffee habit. In no small part, due to this, I became a regular at a […]

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