Two weeks ago, at 27.83 years of age, I became a coffee-drinker. I had tried coffee a few times in the past, including one notable time in HS when I put in so much cream and sugar that I felt sick. I've probably had fewer than five (OK, maybe ten) cold iced-coffee-chocolate concoctions in the years since then.
My wife and I were at Borders to relax and read, and I had a lot of pages in Kant's Critique of Pure Reason to get through. So I decided I would see how bad coffee could really be...you may not think it counts because I picked something that included chocolate and sugar and dairy, but from that beginning I've now drunk one latte and two normal cups of French Roast from the Tufts library in addition to several more drinks along the lines of Borders' "Peppermint Mocha Trio". The quality of my study time has improved, the burned feeling on the tip of my tongue is fading, the moon has been brighter, and my car's been getting better gas mileage. I have no intentions of going back.
On a totally unrelated note, yesterday was my one-year earring anniversary. Yay!
