As a sensitive person, I didn’t do caffeine.
The few times I drank coffee my rate of speech doubled, and I couldn’t sleep until a few days later.
(Maybe a slight exaggeration, but you get the point here.)
But now that Starbucks is in my local Safeway, I find myself indulging in a tall, one-pump chai latte.
They normally have three pumps.
The other day, sitting at the computer after drinking one, I shared in astonishment with my husband, “I really get inspired when I drink caffeine!”
He gave me his best “no, duh” look.
My husband often suffers the brunt of my health-conscious rants. No high fructose corn syrup, no food coloring, no soybean oil, and the list goes on. I’ve been on the anti-caffeine bandwagon since I met him. As a Swede, he began drinking coffee shortly after being weaned from his pacifier. Upon my ever-so-subtle suggestions, he eventually went off caffeine, surviving the withdrawal headaches for a weekend before they cleared.
But children-induced sleep deprivation changed that.
He’s back on.
And, apparently, so am I.
I’m finding it best not to be too “anti” anything these days. Any judgment or rigidity on my part seems to find me eventually eating my words.
Or in this case, drinking a latte.