Make it Sweet

Coffee Time.

From the Turkish kahveh, "to have no appetite". Arabica or Robusta? Who cares. Hot and sweet, with a kick that could restart my heart. You would think that I could finally walk through this tiny apartment in the dark without shredding my toes on the damn table. Coffee will make it all better and since as a general rule I don't sit down at the computer until I have it brewed, I'm feeling better all ready.

It took until the 1800s for coffee to become available to the common man. A history of plant theft and bean smuggling sparked my interest when I was a boy and my first cup was sipped in the same vein. Having watched my parents bitch and yell their way to the kitchen every morning for years and then settle into domestic bliss after a cup I decided I had to try this mind numbing and good will generating brew. It tasted like dirt and acid mixed with scheming and desperation. I added some cream and sugar and voila! Now of course I'm so addicted I can't function without it and I start to get headachy until I've had a cup. Damn addictions. Just one more to blame my parents for.

The first cup is now down the gullet and I just looked outside for the first time, hard to believe as my computer is beside the window, but if you've tried to talk to me between bed and the coffee pot you'll know what kind of state I'm generally in, in the morning. The day has dawned beautifully and now that cup two is under way things aren't so bleak anymore. Now I can contemplate breakfast and maybe think about the chores that need doing. What would I do if Kaldi, the goatherd, hadn't been curious after seeing his sheep dancing from bush to bush? What if Baba Budan hadn't smuggled fertile beans out of Mecca strapped to his belly? What if de Clieu hadn't the nerve to steal a clipping from Louis the XIV?

Well, the answer is I wouldn't be addicted to a drink that has my life centered around the coffee pot. Stupid Kaldi.