I would say that coffee, in several lovely forms, is my favourite vice. I’m one of those generally straitlaced people, but coffee is its own special brand of magic.
Also, please forgive that this is a Daily Prompt and not other fiction-magic. I’ve got a sneaking headache and an increasing gratitude that I don’t have any job that requires working to deadline (unless I mean the semi-crazy ones I place for myself). I just did that thing I do, where I type five words into the drafts and then save it. I’m up to 19 drafts, and sleep is beckoning.
Anyway. When I first began working, there was a cafe on the corner. My employer had a kitchenette, stocked with coffee. Do you see where this is going? I quickly came to resent paying $4 for a mediocre mocha (and cloying chai) so did the sensible thing: I took to making the best use of the instant in the kitchenette.
It got to be daily routine, sometimes multiple times per day. What can I say, I’m stingy with money like that. It all cruised along fine, then one day I got concerned about sensible things like caffeine and sleep, so stopped.
Just like that. The next day I poured a cup of cold water and took it to my desk, staring resentfully at it. Cold. Watery. Bland. It stopped being cold quickly, grew tepid and I hated it.
Eventually that job contract ran out, and I got another one. This job – my current job – has coffee machines. It takes about 30 seconds to make me a lovely coffee that suits all my requirements: free, quick to obtain, hot enough to drink right away without scalding my mouth.
So… yeah. The stopping-coffee permanently thing didn’t work out, but I’ve come to conclude I do love a good cup anyway. I’m also quite sure it goes hand-in-hand with being a writer; something about it stimulates my brain cells even more. (Hey… maybe there’s an idea)