If You’re Not Part of the Problem, You’re Probably in Denial


I had an intervention with myself yesterday.

I was considering these coffee cutbacks I had taken upon myself (granted, with my best interest in mind) as perhaps a bit too extreme, and I was thinking maybe, just maybe, I should cut myself a little slack.


I showed up at my dealer of choice yesterday, feeling positive. That is until the barista said, with a knowing chuckle, “You’re late today!”

Well, well, well. Why the familiar tone, mon cherie? And who put so much “know” in your chuckle?

Feeling slightly discomfited, I tried to brush it off. AND I was going to get a smoothie instead of a coffee. Baby stepz, right? Everybody knows that smoothies throw a powerful antioxidant-vitamin hook kick to your immune system, especially if you add in a little flax seed and wheat germ and hair and who knows what else. There should be a “don’t ask, don’t smell” policy with smoothies, in my humble experience.

There is nothing innocent about the smoothie
photo courtesy of Flickr and rileyroxx

Anyway, it was a no-go. The place was out of bananas! No smoothies to be had. Not just by waywards on the mend, but by anyone!

Ok. Enter phase II of self-improvement sequence. Hot chocolate. Caffeinated but not nearly as much as an espresso one-two punch to the gullet. So I tried out that choice on our barista. Let’s call her SUPERMEAN.

SUPERMEAN is delighted with my hot cocoa choice. She doesn’t think I could’ve picked better. She’s convinced I’ve made some great decisions in life, but this is by far, the greatest. Good thing I didn’t tell her about the Java Minimization Program.

Anyway, then as I’m leaving, she really laid it on me, in this serenely snide tone, with a chipper “See you tomorrow!”

What the.

How dare she.

There was something so calmly all-knowing about those three little words that I could only sip my heavenly beverage and seethe into my steaming cup. Her tone and words were exactly the kind of cheeriness a drug dealer uses when completing a sale with a junkie. And not even a respectable junkie, but rather a junkie with bloated self-worth who’s suffering from delusions of trying to turn over a new (tea?) leaf.


Anyway, that was enough to convince me I have a problem. But of course, the best way to wean yourself off the brown ambrosia is, of course, to couple it with sleep deprivation and lots of it.

What better way to combat lowering your dosage of uppers than with a militaristic regimen of fatigue and insomnia?!

So to put it lightly, things have been a little off lately.

I had a minor panic attack when I had to tell the people at lunch to remake my pizza with green peppers instead of pepperoni.

And last night, when a dead fly fell out of one of my bags, I spent quite a bit of time looking up superstitions on dead flies. I also gave the fly a tiny and brief funeral.

I can’t focus on people’s faces when they’re talking.

…plus other assorted goodness, all brought to you by the Society for a Caffeine-Free ‘Parna.

Zombies outside an institution of coffee? How fitting!
photo courtesy of Flickr and atp_tyreseus

Of course, all the coffee drinkers I talk to think I am making a very bad decision, very bad indeed. The way they carry on about it, you’d think I didn’t know what I was doing!

(Haha. Joke’s on me.)

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