Crouching Tiger, Not-So Hidden Dragon Breath

My mom’s dragon breath has stayed with me for years. It’s the reason why I’m not a coffee drinker today. That, and coffee tastes like ass. But I’ve been seriously thinking about jumping on the coffee bandwagon. It’s the sleepless nights combined with the afternoon sluggishness and the nagging need to work on my “real” writing that is pushing me toward it. I figured if I stayed up a little later and worked on my novel when the entire house is put to bed and quiet, then maybe I’d be one step closer to achieving my lifelong dream of getting published. There is no way I could do this without drinking a pot or two of coffee to get me through, or else I’d want to take a long walk off a short pier.

When I say coffee, I’m not talking about the fancy frou-frou drinks at Starbucks. I mean plain ol’ make-it-yourself sludge. The kind of coffee that cleans out your insides as if you’d eaten a bushel of prunes followed by a basket of bran muffins.

I hear that coffee is a wonder drink capable of supplying a caffeine jolt, keeping you regular, and suppressing your appetite. So many pros. The biggest con, maybe the only one, has to be the dragon breath.

I figured when I became a mom that naturally the next step would be to start enjoying a cup of Joe during my morning routine, not feeling quite human until I took my first jittery drink. But it hasn’t happened yet. I’m afraid to become dependent on it if I take even one gulp.I don’t want to end up a slave to my coffee-maker, a virtual zombie without my java. But I guess I’m already part-zombie, so I should just buy some Altoids and learn how I take my coffee. I’m thinking with A LOT of sugar.