All aboard the C8H10N4O2 Espresso!

English: Chemical structure of Caffeine. Franç...

I have no idea whether I’m coming, going, or spinning in circles today.

Part of this is Monday, part is bookbrain—thank GOD—and part, I’m sure, is a severe caffeine imbalance.

I gave up diet Pepsi as my main source three days ago and haven’t figured out how to compensate, yet..

Turns out carbonation isn’t the best thing to put in one’s body, at least not in the quantities I was mainlining.  Plus, while I wasn’t spending as much per week as the average Starbucks groupie, this stuff ain’t cheap.*

Tea is my favorite alternative, but it’s not as readily available in restaurants or at work, at least in the quantities I use  to keep the withdrawal gnomes at bay and the migraine fairy from nailing me with the icepick,  so I’m also experimenting with . . . and I can’t believe I’m saying this . . . coffee.

That’s right.  After forty-cough years of not drinking coffee—of, in fact, making a point about not drinking coffee**—I’ve gone to the dark-roast side.***

Sort of.

I don’t really have the knack of it, yet.

This morning, around 5:30, when all good decisions are made, I tried to make a drinkable cup of pumpkin spice specialty roast  with Watson’s ceramic filter thingie and see if it was drinkable.

Okay, it wasn’t a cup, it was a mug.

Okay, not just a mug,but my Ohio Renaissance Festival 24-ounce mug that I’m used to filling with carbonated, aspertamed love.

Except I didn’t use enough coffee because I can’t do math before caffeine, so it was really watery.  I drank it anyway, because pumkin spice-flavored water isn’t so bad and it was warm and I wasn’t paying that much attention because bookbrain.

It wasn’t until I was already halfway through the travelmug I’d brought to work that  I realized I’d already sucked down the equivalent of two fairly strong cups of coffee.

I’m not a caffeine lightweight . . . but that’s a lot at once.

The day started to blur after that.  Or maybe it was me.

It was probably me.  It probably still is.

So this is as much post as I can sit still enough to do at the moment and I have no idea if it’s in English or Hyperactive.

Leave a comment and let me know—I’ll read ’em after the screen stops vibrating.

Maybe tomorrow, I’ll just bring a handful of teabags to work . .  .

_______________________________

*Also, carbonation may be the life of the soft beverage party, but there’s no denying it  also supplies  the   balloonage and noisemakers, if you know what I mean.  It’s a gas is what I’m saying.  And that’s all I’m going to say, thanks.

**Though I recently admitted that I can see the attraction.

***Yes, Averil and josey, you can tell me you told me so.

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16 thoughts on “All aboard the C8H10N4O2 Espresso!

    • You need a stovetop espresso maker. It’ll make you feel all Continental and cool, not to mention it’s impossible to make bad coffee on it unless you ignore its gurgling and let it boil for an hour. That’s too much for even me. Ick.

      • We received an espresso machine for a wedding present and my Dad was more excited than we were (at the time, my husband didn’t drink coffee, either) .

        Dad made two tiny cups of the stuff. I took one sip and couldn’t blink for an hour. UGH! Dad loved it, so I loaned it to him on a permanent basis.

  1. Not incoherent. Sarah doesn’t drink coffee. When Sarah drinks coffee, she jumps, spins, and types stream of consciousness. Coffee is my friend, I was raised on coffee milk. Chicory coffee is pretty awesome too, it kept me awake during graduate school. Enjoy your dalliance with dark roast.

  2. I’m probably the wrong one to ask. I swear my father encouraged me to drink coffee in my teen years so he wouldn’t have to make his own, and my mother didn’t help because she didn’t like to drink coffee alone. However I come from a family that can drink caffeine without losing our minds (raging torrent of consciousness…what?) or our guts. I think it’s genetic.

    • My parents didn’t drink much coffee when I was growing up—or I don’t remember it. Dad was on instant Postum for a while . . .

      But Mom always gave us diet soda as an afternoon snack and a treat. No wonder I love the stuff!

  3. Say it isn’t so! I must be the only person on earth who just can’t drink coffee. I can’t make it either. Doesn’t matter how carefully I measure, follow instructions, or what ever, everyone always tells me I should never make coffee again!

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