World crisis averted. This morning I realized what a creature of habit I am - and an addict. My coffee supply was low and I had a brief panic attack in which I broke out in a cold sweat and had heart palpitations, but thank goodness my husband was going to the village and could re-stock it. You see, after stumbling out of bed and letting the dogs out, the next thing I do is make myself a pot of coffee before jumping in the shower. My brain cells do not speak to each other unless I massage my scalp with vanilla- or green tea- scented shampoo and then pour some caffeine down my throat. Actually, it would be more effective if I just injected the latter, but it's the sensation of tasting my java that's the best part of my morning. Do not even try to carry on a civilized conversation with me before the coffee kicks in and I've rinsed away yesterday's grime. My husband can vouch that I'll likely just mutter at you in a tone that says, "Go away."
Imbibing my cup of morning coffee is probably the most essential part of my writing routine. As I said, I'm not coherent without it and nothing quite stirs the senses like a steaming mug of Toasted Almond or Chocolate Raspberry. And it must come from the Emporium in quirky Yellow Springs, Ohio where they wrap the stop sign posts in rainbow crochet and if your car has a Reublican bumper sticker you're an endangered species. Ordinary, mass produced grocery store coffee is not an acceptable substitute. I've been known to open the bag of coffee beans and just inhale it.
Said coffee, for optimum writing output, must be in one of either two mugs: Henry "Hotspur" Percy or Edward, the Black Prince. These two mementos were purchased at touristy Warwick Castle on a trip to England. Somehow, drinking from them makes writing about medieval places more of a connection. Okay, so I'm a little weird that way, but the rule at our house is that no one but me is allowed to drink from those cups and they are reserved for writing days, not lazy weekends.
My husband calls me a 'coffee snob'. Hey, it's a cheap habit and if it helps me write, what's the harm? I'd have less withdrawal symptoms if I lost my cell phone and my laptop was attacked by a computer virus and the horrible blue screen of death popped up. Just, please, don't ever take my coffee away.
Until later,
Gemi
1 comment:
I'm guilty too. There's nothing I like better than to creep downstairs early each morning, clean from the shower in my bathrobe,but not yet dressed, to drink my first cup of coffee while checking e-mails. My husband thinks I'm mad - but then his e-mails are all business and therefore depressing - mine are about writing and therefore great!
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