If you’ve ever talked to me before my three shots of espresso in the morning, you know I am not particularly cogent when I get up. If you’ve run into me after I’ve had my fifth or sixth shot, then you know I get a little shaky and strange. My wife says my lips turn blue and I am sure it aggravates my back, which is riddled with damage from skiing, climbing and falling off motorcycles. So, I decided to quit drinking coffee today and, if I could think, would be kicking myself for having forgotten what this is like.
I suppose Diet Coke would count as coffee methadone, but that would be a cheat, too. So, I am at a loss for words and wonder what kind of a god could put a spigot in the back of my head that, when left open, lets my brains run down into my shoes.