So the whole “not drinking coffee” thing was such a farce.
As it turns out, there are myriad (ok, six, but still) reasons to scrap my plan to wean off coffee in anticipation of cleansing (translation: dieting like a mo-fo) in July.
It’s not realistic. A favorite non-blob referenced two past cleanse experiences, one with caffeine and one without. One ended in a crying mess on the floor, and one ended with 70-90% of the benefits. I’m not ruling out the possibility of a crying mess, but for 70-90% benefits, I’ll take mine with foam on top. (Skim.)
- It was supposed to start before Tax Day. This is really just a re-phrase of No. 1. But if you requested a check from your trust to pay your taxes after April 1st, PM me for shipping details on where to send a pound of Kona. You owe me.
- It’s not even helpful. Slate urges: “Drink heroic amounts of coffee.” And I will. I want to be just like Beethoven and Proust, Glenn Gould and Francis Bacon, Jean-Paul Sartre and Gustav Mahler. (Except able to hear, less French, not Canadian, better dressed, not Marxist, and someone I’ve ever heard of.) Although not actually (or even remotely, to be fair), the study schedule certainly FEELS like Balzac’s brutal writing schedule: “He ate a light dinner at 6 p.m., then went to bed. At 1 a.m. he rose and sat down at his writing table for a seven-hour stretch of work. At 8 a.m. he allowed himself a 90-minute nap; then, from 9:30 to 4, he resumed work, drinking cup after cup of black coffee. According to one estimate, he drank as many as 50 cups a day.”
- It was supposed to continue (and ramp UP) while I’m studying. This, too, is really just a re-phrase of No. 1. I couldn’t take a high school spelling test without a venti frappucino. Light-years later, how could I differentiate between an above the line exemption and below the line deduction without my old friend? I actually feel kind of traitorous.
- It’s not me. A coworker said that I’m “practically synonymous with 8 cups of coffee.” (Whatever THAT means.) As another favorite non-blob pointed out, “If I ever needed to find you I would plot a course to all the nearest Starbucks.” You’re welcome, economy.
- Some days, pressing the french press plunger is the most fun I have.