The Caffeine Confession

My name is Kari, and I’m an addict. I freely admit it. It’s coffee. I want it, I need it, I can’t live without it. Okay . . . if I had to, I could live without it (says the addict). Drinking coffee is my ritual. I love the smell of it while its steeping. I love the taste of it while I’m drinking. I love the weight of the mug in my hand and the steam hitting my nose as I waft it in. I love the way my eyes dilate from the caffeine hitting my bloodstream. She laughs. That last part is only partially true.

I consider myself a fairly low-maintenance type of woman. If I could spend most of my days with my hair braided, wearing overalls, no make up, and sneakers I would. I’m really only high key about a few things in life and coffee is definitely one of them.

I’m bougee about my coffee. I have no shame in the game. While I love the actual taste of coffee, I truly believe only humans with nothing to lose drink their coffee black. I like mine a medium brown color, only lightened by my favorite Hazelnut coffee creamer. No extra sugar. It must be brewed in a percolator. My percolator was gifted to me by my in-laws, which is symbolic because I’ve never met two people who drink more coffee than those two. I’m also bougee about the type of coffee I drink. My dealer - I mean dear friend - ships me coffee from a shop in Pittsburgh. She knows what flavors I like and the classics I must have.

I am also extremely particular about the timing around my coffee drinking. For maximum coffee experience, it must be brewed immediately when I wake up in the morning. The later I wait to drink it, the less utility it provides me. We also start to get dangerously close to the iced coffee hours of the afternoon. Once the coffee is steeped, it should be served piping hot. I pour in my 2 tablespoons of creamer and let it sit. It must cool to the precisely perfect temperature before taking my first sip. There will be many times I pick up the mug, give it a smell and place it back down, knowing it is not quite ready yet. Once it is ready, man does it just hit different.

One day, when I own my own lake house – I have this dream of waking up on the water, throwing a cozy sweatshirt on, and being handed a piping hot mug of joe made just the way I like it. This dream of course requires your children to sleep past 6am and your husband to know how to make your coffee.

While I work on that, I’ll just be over here sipping my coffee with a full heart in my little house filled with happiness . . . ah balance.