I was curious to see if I was "addicted". I was also curious if I could go a simple seven days without my now quite regular beverage of choice.
It was, I must confess, a remarkably disturbing challenge. My afternoons became plagued with a the grey listlessness of evident withdrawal. Regularly at about 11 AM, I longed for a warm comforting mug of coffee, much as a famished soul longs for a sumptuous five course meal. The lack thereof profoundly, and disconcertainly affected my mood over the week. On several occasions, my hankering was so severe as to induce the drinking of decaf! Which although not the same thing, came very close to breaking the spirit of my self imposed prohibition.
What does this mean? It means that I am addicted folks. Yep. Denial is no longer an option. It means that coffee surely has an unhealthy hold on me. It is no longer a source of pleasure, but a dastardly dependence that slowly but surely subtly saps the liveforce from my days like some fiendish brown tick that looks just like a coffee bean!
My fast, praise the Lord, is now over.
I sit here with my Canadianno (one shot of espresso the rest coffee) typing this entry. I also sit here with some resolve and newfound wisdom. Yes, ladies and gentlemen. Wisdom. The kinda of thing that the Bible tells us is worth its weight in rubies and gemstones. That said, I am going to institute a one drink, every second day moratorium!
One unexpected perk: Wow... I am really enjoying my coffee right now.
Nice.
Russell
P.S. I gotta admit that this prohibition thing is a little fun. This week's prohibition: No e-mailing or internet in the morning + a one hour limit a day.
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