Granted, my “kingdom” consists of very little, still I would abdicate it all for a single cup of coffee in the morning. I have been an avid consumer of caffeine for most of my life. Seriously, I started drinking coffee since I was two years old when my tío, Tonio, gave me my first cup. It was mostly milk and sugar with a dash of coffee, but that first sip pretty much ensured my lasting love affair with that sweet black brew.
For some idiotic reason that I no longer recall, I decided to put on hold the longest relationship I have ever had and stop drinking coffee. Today marks 48 hours since my last cup and so far I have been okay. No withdrawal symptoms or odd occurrences yet to speak of and no headaches or hallucinations (was kind of hoping for the last one). I have also not had a single sip of soda since mid January, but that one was not as hard to give up.
I don’t miss the caffeine because it hardly had an effect on me anymore. Honestly, I could gulp down two whole pots of coffee in an hour and then take a nap. This is not hyperbole. It is something I actually did (thank you last minute paper writing) and something I do not recommend except for those who do not fear the dreams induced by massive amounts of java. Lots of vibrating and bunnies. Not really sure why the bunnies were there, but they were. What I do miss, however, is the ritual I have created around a cup of joe. Every morning and evening, a cup of hot, delicious black nectar would be in my hands being slowly savored while I either wrote or read the latest the Internet had to offer. Without this divining rod of sorts, I have found my mornings and evenings seemingly missing an essential element. It is as though my hand is incomplete for these moments because it is not holding, or near, a cup.
I have begun drinking tea as a replacement and it works, for the most part. Yet, it still feels slightly off. I miss my old friend, but I am also curious to see how long I can go without him. At this point, I say a week before total mental and/or physical breakdown, but if nothing else I might get an interesting short story out of the experience, so totally worth it, right? The idiot ramblings of a writer…Hopefully, I don’t die from lack of caffeine (that’s not a thing, is it?) and will remember why I chose to do this to myself. Until then, I’ll keep at it and dream of roasted beans yet to be made into succulent, savory perfection.