Alright, alright, now I understand that it may be weird to have an entire post about coffee—or maybe not at all… I don’t know. What I do know is that without the magic substance, I might not be here today, you know, because I have a kid.
Now I know that there are those out there that don’t have a taste for coffee and those that seem to be anti-coffee, for some strange reason. I’m here to tell you that you’re wrong! Coffee is one of the greater things in life and if you don’t like it… you must be sick.
My friendship with Joe (Joe because it’s so funny and witty to call coffee Joe) began at age 23, shortly after I stopped drinking alcohol. I had never had much of a taste for coffee until I dropped one habit and picked up another. I know it sounds like it was just a replacement—and hell, maybe that’s what it is—but it feels like a lot more than that. Joe helps me focus and get the shit done that needs done and helps keep me from falling asleep at my desk at work after we have a rough night with Emmy. And that has happened, more than once—I’m just sayin’—moffuga gets tired bein’ a dad and all, haha.
Coffee has become my crutch—but in a good way; it helps support me in a non-deadly way such as alcohol was providing me. It’s actually pretty healthy for me, according to some studies, and that makes it even better. There really is nothing like a nice, black cup of coffee when you’re fighting to stay conscious or even when you’re just trying to relax, thus why it had to be written about more than just in an in-passing way. So there you have it—my little friendship story with coffee.
I love you, boo.