Sometimes when someone new in my life hears that I don't drink coffee, they are so shocked that an adult person doesn't drink coffee that they will ask me why I don't drink coffee.
I am never really sure how to answer that question. I just never picked up the habit. I had a sip of coffee once, by accident, when I was about eight. It was awful and not merely because I was expecting hot cocoa. Then I worked at Burger King through most of high school, most of that time in drive-thru where the big coffee pots ran night and day so the very smell of coffee is associated with toiling away my adolescence surrounded by other angsty and miserable teens.
I have awkwardly defended my position on coffee more than a few times. Once, I even defended it in writing. I was reading Natalie Goldberg's Old Friend from Far Away: The Practice of Writing Memoir and came across the following writing prompt:
"Tell me how you drink coffee. When? Where?
If you don't drink coffee, tell me how you stopped."
It apparently never occurred to Natalie Goldberg, who is one of my heroes on the planet in so many other ways, that a grown-up human being might have never been a coffee drinker. So, therefore, if I don't drink coffee, I am clearly not a member in good standing of the grown-up club.
Not that that will come as a shock to anyone who has spent anytime around here. This isn't a "potentially infinite" series for nothing, folks.
C is for Coffee (or the lack thereof)