I used to criticize my husband about his coffee consumption. Every day he would fill his zombie-themed tumbler with 30 oz. of liquid energy and schlep it around for the morning. Sometimes it would come home empty, sometimes it had a few ounces left. “You know you probably don’t NEED to make that much coffee each morning, you don’t even drink all of it. And we buy fancy coffee now. What a waste!” He informed me that he did, in fact, need all of that coffee, and that he would make MORE at work and add it to the tumbler. My 12 oz. coffee having ass looked at him in bewilderment.

Now I drink 24 oz. just to get my day started, often adding more to my intake as I chase the energy only holistic mavens seem to magically embody after smelling a package of tea. I can only imagine the smirk on his face right now as I pour the last of the pot into my giant ass mug. I can hear him pointing out what cup I am on for the day, and sarcastically asking if I really need to drink THAT much coffee. Touché, my love. I hope you are eating up every minute of this on the other side.

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