My last drug.

I cannot claim to be a child of the 60's. I was a grown-up when the flower-power movement began, and some of it rubbed off on me anyway. A little hash, a little psychedelics, a little peyote, some magic mushrooms, all basically organic and soft-core. In the end, it was booze that I loved the best, legal booze. I have put down all that stuff now and live a sweetly drug-free, conscious life, even while having fun, strange to tell. I really thought there would never be any more fun once I stopped drinking. My first sponsor would drag me to AA dances, and make me dance, with her. Have fun, damn it! Well, I did. And I still do, lots of it, and I remember it all the next morning, when I rise sans hangover to begin all over again. Part of this is because I stay immaculately healthy. I eat more than sensibly, eating is fun, too. I found that I don't need to eat a lot to have fun, though. I have more fun when I am more sleek. And it has often occurred to me that my coffee habit may be in juxtaposition with my ethics here. Surely, this must be bad for me, I love it so much. Here is a difficult admission: I have become somewhat snobbish about my coffee. I buy my beans fresh-roasted, so that the aroma fills the car on the way home, and it is almost intoxicating, it is so marvelous. My bag of beans lives in the door of the fridge, and comes out every other morning while I fill my little blue grinder and push down on the button for just the right amount of time, so that the resulting grounds are still intact, not so powdery that they clump in the grinder. I eagerly stand by Mr. Coffee as it burbles and spits out this amazing-smelling brew. The whole kitchen grows fragrant with the smell of coffee. Because I am so very conscious, I can feel the little kick right away. And I love it! Currently, my blend is Ethiopian, because Costco stopped roasting my Sumatra. That's OK. It's not like the difference between chardonnay and petit sirrah, after all.