Good Ol' Coffee

I've decided to quit drinking coffee.
Again.

It's a decision I've made several times, over the years. (Once, I even went almost four years without the stuff.) I usually decide it's time to quit when I'm not sleeping too well at night, and I'm making that second pot of coffee before anyone else is up; they don't know I've already drained the first one... OK, it's only a 4-cup pot, but still...

I don't quit the way you're supposed to, you know, cut back by 1/2 cup every day until you are coffee-free. Not me. I go "cold turkey". And soon after my first coffeeless breakfast, my body starts complaining. Mostly it's my head. And when the head doesn't feel like being in charge, you know what happens in the ranks. Nobody wants to do much of anything. And all the head wants is for someone else to take responsibility for the silly decision it made....

The first couple of days are crucial. Your reasons for quitting don't seem that important anymore. You think, "If I could just have a sip to relieve this splitting headache..." Resolve is important, or backsliding is inevitable.

Now, when I resume my coffee habit, in a few months or years, I never consider it backsliding. After all, I've beat the thing, haven't I? It's my decision to start up again, isn't it? Is it?

Well, I know it may seem like a cop-out to you, but the real reason I know I'll always come back to the aromatic bean is that it's my legacy. To understand what I mean, you almost have to have had a Scandinavian grandmother. If you could have seen my grandma, at age 107, raise her morning cup of joe in a toast of, "Good ol' coffee", then you would know that it's my heritage.