An addict turns to contemplation

I staggered through my house that morning, knowing I was out of coffee. I took multiple trips around the house looking for my shoes, finally settled for outrageously large climbing boots, then took multiple trips looking for my keys. I finally jumped on my motorcycle—adrenaline is a good substitute for endorphins when you get older—and broke many laws getting to the local caffeine clinic. Upon arriving I had the sinking realization that my man-purse was not in my backpack.

At this point all my training as a contemplative was out the window. I was Jonesing as hard as I in the old days, coming off Oxy.

Back on the bike, more broken laws, and now I was in full addict mode. I was no longer going to be a slave to my addiction. I would slay it by upgrading my coffee system at home. Yes, that should do it. I strapped the large box to the back of my seat, and I was home in four minutes with my pre-ground Sumatra coffee, my new coffee maker...and two, yes two, parts of the machine missing from the box.