A Letter to...Coffee

Disclaimer: This post contains significant discussion of and/or reference to my bodily functions.  If this freaks you out, disgusts you, or just plain doesn't interest you, please don't read.

Dear Coffee,

You and I have what I would consider a "long-term" relationship.  While it is true that for the majority of my life, I shunned your existence, all of that changed in my first year of college.  Sleeping only four to five hours a night, waking up at 5 AM for crew practices, and endless hours of homework - all of these conditions converged into the perfect storm that made me listen to the hushed, frantic whispers of the overly-caffeinated drug gods: "Go on, just try it.  One sip...it will keep you awake through chemistry!"

That was the beginning of the end.  One cup of weak, college coffee later and I stayed alert through chemistry for the first time all semester.  I was hooked.  It seemed innocent enough at first.  You and I didn't hang out every day.  We met up a few times a week when I really needed you to stay awake.  And then, of course, things changed.  Life got more complicated, I got less sleep, and soon I was hanging out with you every day.  By the time I graduated, I was chugging that weak, college coffee like it was water.  (Which it was, essentially.)  

Then, I tried to change.  I decided to be virtuous.  I quit you, cold turkey!  We didn't meet up again for MONTHS.  Alas, it was not meant to last.  Like any good addict, all it took was one really tough week, and I was back to hanging out with you.  The descent was much faster this time.  Within a week, you and I were meeting up every day.  After two weeks, it was multiple times a day.  I managed to keep it to two cups per day.  That's more than enough, I thought.  Oh, how wrong I was...

You and I are so deeply entwined by now that I consider you my life-blood.  You keep me moving on days when I don't eat, you keep me awake and chipper through endless hours of nannying, and um, your diuretic and laxative properties serve a crucial role in my life.  Today, though, marked a new high (low?) in our relationship.  Today, I went to the bathroom and...my pee smelled like coffee.  So strongly that I checked to make sure I hadn't spilled my cup into the toilet.  (Which would have been a sin unto the Lord, by the way.  WASTING COFFEE IS A SIN.)  I flushed hurriedly and walked away, convincing myself it was a freak occurrence.  It wasn't.  Every time I've peed today, it has smelled like you.  The fact that it's still yellow (and not coffee-colored, as the smell would suggest it should be) is remarkable.  Sadly, this highly obvious sign that perhaps you and I are spending a bit too much time together will go ignored by me (with the exception of this blog post to commemorate the occasion) because, hi, I need you.  I need you in order to stay awake.  I need you to suppress my appetite.  And yes, I need you if I ever want to poop.  So, coffee, I realize that our relationship changed today.  But I'm not running away.  In fact, I'm already looking forward to the morning, when I get to greet your sweet self one more time...

Love,

Cait

Second disclaimer: Yes, I poke fun at my eating disorder.  Yes, you might think this is in bad taste.  I'm not going to apologize.  If I didn't laugh sometimes, I'd be crying all the time.  So either laugh along with me, or go cry by yourself.

A Good Day

I went swimming in the lake today.  To get down to the lake from the house, you have to scoot on your butt down a grassy embankment too steep to walk down, and then when you hit the rocks, if you look carefully, there's a sort of hidden stone staircase down to the beach that you skip down to get to the water.  It's usually necessary to admonish oneself to slow down before you slip and fall and crack your head open.  Oh.  Right.  Once I was down there, I waded carefully in up to my waist (the rocky bottom requires the surefooted-ness of a Shetland pony) before diving under, emerging gasping as the cold water soaked me.  I couldn't help it - I laughed.  The sun was shining down on me, I was immersed in water, and I remembered that it is this, these moments that matter.  Those are the ones you go back to when you're sad or lonely or broken-hearted.

I made a good day for myself today.  Besides the swimming, I mean.  I drove to a neighboring town and got coffee from my favorite coffee shop of all time. It's called The Orange Cat.  How can you not love it?  I read my book, Three Junes while I sipped my coffee, and talked to a grandmother about her two-year-old grandson.  He and I played peek-a-boo around the chairs and he gleefully handed me every leaf he'd collected on their walk, one by one.  He also tried to share his scone with me.  What can I say, I make those boys weak in the knees.

'Tis aptly named

I biked to a yard sale near the house and got a bright red bowl that I'll eat oatmeal from.  I also got a small wooden box that will be exactly perfect for what it's intended.  I love when you find those things.  Especially for fifty cents.  I biked home, smiling at my purchases, and then lazed in the sun, taking zillions of pictures (mostly of my boy) and eventually heading to the water for the aforementioned dip.

It was only after all that fun that the fact that my insomnia is back and woke me up at 3:20 this morning caught up with me.  I woke up an hour or so ago from my "nap" and now will probably be awake most of the night.  Ah well.  At least I'll have good memories of today to get me through the nighttime loneliness.  Maybe I'll be awake to see the sun rise over the water.  It's magical.  And who says I can't have massive amounts of coffee tomorrow to get me through?  Not me, that's for sure.