My First Experience with Coffee

My biological clock is ticking.  This August something in me (not my wife) said that I needed to stop wearing t-shirts and start wearing more age-appropriate clothing.  So I went out and purchased a few shirts and sweaters on my own (risky venture, but Angela approved of my purchases).  Now there are usually 1-2 days a week wear I have a relapse and my t-shirt drawer calls my name, but for the most part I've started dressing a little more mature.... just a little.  Don't get your hopes up too much.... I'm still decades away from a suit.

Then in October I started to desire coffee like never before.  I wondered if this was just a random urge, but having another kid and starting a new role at the church fanned into flame my desire for the devil's brew (that's what Christians in Rome called it medieval times).  The desire just wouldn't go away.  I had never had coffee before (not even a sip) and always looked at my discipline with a sort of pride.  I pitied people who couldn't function in the morning without it; making their way to the coffee maker or Starbucks like zombies.

But after eight weeks of sleepless nights, I broke down.  The social pressure to drink coffee, my tired eyes, and the lure of the aroma overwhelmed me and so I took my daughter on our weekly Starbucks date and ordered a grande dark roast.  I took a sip and it was disgusting.  I took a few more sips and disliked it even more.  Then I added a bunch of half and half, but that didn't help at all.  So round one of my introduction to coffee was horrible.  I think next time I'll try a triple-triple from Tim Horton's.