Ensuring My Own Mortality

There’s nothing I enjoy more than a good cup of coffee in the morning.

 Actually, I’m lying. There are *tons* of things I enjoy more, but my mild addiction to a couple cups of caffeine is definitely up there.  And yes, by a couple, I mean at least two to three. Maybe four… But in my defense, my mug is especially average in size and not one of those bowl-like mugs you could drink soup out of. I’ve wanted to get one for a while but I know I’ll still want my two to three servings worth and at that point, I will literally be running around the apartment, tripping over various shit that has somehow journeyed from the furniture to the carpet. So, it’s a safety issue.

 I know what you’re thinking. Four cups of coffee? Is she mad?

 No, just really energetic. Besides, it’s coffee. Yes, I know, too much of anything will kill you. But you know what? I don’t plan on being immortal. Nope. I’d make a terrible vampire or zombie or whatever. I’d get super bored, super quick and would end up all Emo and although black is slimming, I don’t think I could pull it off for a millennia. (I’m not good with accessorizing.) SO, drinking coffee would be like ensuring my own mortality, if you want to put it that way. And if you’re still spinning that whole, it’s not good to be addicted to stuff, listen—at least it’s a legal yummy. It’s not like I’m sniffing Elmer’s glue or getting high off Crayola markers. If people even do that.

 So stop judging me. You’re not perfect either.

Mary Poppins comes closest and she’s still an inch and a half away.

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