That Blessed Bean

Coffee. Coffee. Coffeecoffeecoffee.
I may be all but out of supply here in the apartment, but soon there will be more coffee at my disposal. It’s my morning vice of choice. Considering I’m about to head back into full-time dayjob employment and want to present myself at least somewhat professionally, an early-morning cocktail is out of the question. But when I climb into Vera for the morning commute against the will of my protesting body, a good cup or two of this rather divine substance is sure to get me into a more productive frame of mind.
One of the things I miss about working in Old City is the prevalence and accessibility of coffee shops. Taking a walk down the block or around a corner to pick up even a simple cup of coffee instead of hitting up the Keurig was a good way to clear one’s head, try to get thoughts in order, possibly strike up non-work conversation with a co-worker. Especially if the weather was nice.
It’s certainly not a necessary vice, no more so than lighting up a pipe while reading over a novel or draft, or mixing up a martini to celebrate a few more thousand words or a particularly nice winning streak in ladder matches. But I consider it one of the perks of being an adult, so long as such indulgences are taken in moderation.
It’s National Coffee Day, and I’ll be grinding up my last bit of Trader Joe’s House Blend to celebrate. Share some java stories with me: what role does coffee play in your everyday life? How do you take your coffee? Do you have a preferred shop, or do you have an arcane system of coffee creation that no barista could ever top?
Color me curious. And caffeinated.
And in case you didn’t know where coffee got started, how it works its magic or what the heck Americano is, don’t worry. The Oatmeal’s gotcha covered.