Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Some of you, erroneously, believe I have an addiction to coffee.

I don’t.

For weeks and weeks this summer I haven’t even started my day with the delightful beverage because, well, it’s just been too hot. Why would I put scalding hot elixir of life inside my body when walking outside makes your face start to melt?

But lately, dear ones, getting up has been a struggle. The girl who has never been a snooze-button-pusher has become one. 5 a.m. is really, really early. (That one’s just for the record.)

And while I enjoy coffee, I don’t necessarily enjoy it at 5:30 a.m. unless it’s the dead of winter and I’ve just had to venture outside to walk the dog. For me, coffee is something to be enjoyed, relished, sipped. Not gulped as you rush to the bathroom to start getting ready for a whirlwind day. And it’s way better at say 8 a.m. or 9 a.m. than 5:30 a.m.

So my solution has been to grind my favorite roast at home and bring coffee to work where I brew up 4 cups of coffee in my tiny little non-fancy coffee maker.

And today, dear ones, I just drank the entire 4 cups.

As I said, be afraid.

BE VERY AFRAID!

(And just as a free piece of non-related advice: When a boy asks you to help him move, say no. Don’t doubt me. At least set limits. Boys are unorganized and you’ll end up doing weird things like packing up their bathrooms which is oddly personal.)