Back on the Caf

One of the terrible side effects of FOUR DAYS of food poisoning is that even the most faithful among us, the most devout of devotees, cast aside our daily worship practices.
I'm sure some of you are thinking, "That's terrible, there's no excuse for ignoring your God, Tory."
While other, more gentle folk might be thinking, "The Goddess understands, the important thing is to get back to your practice once you're feeling better."
To which I reply, What on earth are you people talking about? I'm writing about coffee here. This ain't no religion blog.
Jeez.
Ahh, my true source of power and wisdom: the lusty bean. I don't know how long it's been since I didn't have a cup of joe in the morning. I had to drink green tea for several days while my body was in protest; it got the job done, but wasn't the same. The smell of coffee is so welcoming and enveloping, it says, come here friend, you are loved and everything is ok.
I like knowing that regardless of what is happening in my life or in the world I can still be greeted by a cup of coffee and feel good. People die, jobs end, a romance goes sour-- through it all I can fire up my espresso machine and find solace in the earthy brown elixir.

Now I have friends in AA who've shared about their gnawing need to drink, how alcohol and drugs made them feel warm and whole when their world seemed empty and bleak, how it was the one friend, nay lover, who (at least for a while) didn't let them down. One of these kind folk recently observed that I seem to "need" coffee to function, that my attitude towards it sounded obsessive. He noted when I don't get coffee in the morning, I become, how do you say, hmmm, I believe the word he chose was hostile.
You know, I can stop any time... I don't need coffee to have a happy life... it's not interfering with my daily living... mmm, must go to Peet's... ah, hello coffee my old friend, my precious...