This will be a Really Good Thing once we have unpacked, but right now our life is in more boxes than a sane person would like to contemplate.
Here’s the Really Bad Thing:
All of our coffee, not to mention the equipment to transform it into a drinkable brew, is…you guessed it…somewhere in the endless rows and columns of boxes.
It’s all somewhere in here.
That’s a bit like saying that my brother lives somewhere in Texas.
Both statements are true, and neither one provide useful information.
So the upshot of all of this is I’m on about my sixth straight day without coffee.
I’m definitely addicted; right now just the thought of coffee makes me drool.
At least for the time being, Starbucks and its ilk are, while not completely out of reach, are reserved only for true caffeine-addressable emergencies.
Besides, I don’t actually care much for Starbucks…their roasts are way too dark, so much so that most of the flavor of the coffee actually seems lost.
You are not actually addicted as much as you think you are. If it were I who had just moved, I would have found that coffee maker and coffee come hell or high water. After all, you need to establish priorities in life.
One of my coworkers once said, “I don’t see how caffeine could possibly be bad for you. I mean, it’s the ONLY thing that’ll make my horrible headache go away!”
Next week I’ll be going to a music camp on an island where, as far as I know, there is no good coffee… I may have to bring a french press and some grinds with me.
I don’t think there’s a starbucks there, but no caffeine withdrawal would convince me to drink that. I am addicted AND a snob.
Jeezus, james, what were you thinking? That coffee pot, along with the coffee and at least a couple of cups, is supposed to ride over to the new house sitting on the front passenger seat of the car, while less important items – toothbrushes, vacuum cleaner, spouse, etc. – are relegated to the back seat for that last trip over.
You might drop by the Stop and Rob and get a jar of instant and a plastic spoon to get you by. Just eat it out of the jar.
And truth be known, a half-assed decent cup of coffee can be had at McDonald’s. Not for purists, to be sure, but purists are not going to be satisfied with anything less than the nectar made from beans hand-picked out of steaming piles of badger poop and roasted over the fiery loins of virgins. But for normal folks like me who take their coffee for medicinal purposes, it’s got the best quality to price ratio of anything you can pick up on the way to work.
