Oh, coffee. We have a long history, you and I. We’ve had our ups and downs, a bumpy road, so to speak. In my mind, your rich aroma mingles with warm memories of rainy days at grandma’s house, the sound of the percolator a sign that all was peaceful and right in the world. But our relationship was purely platonic; I was too young to appreciate your robustness, the complexity of your charms. ‘Someday, when I’m grown,’ I thought, ‘ I’ll do adult things like read the newspaper while I drink my morning coffee – not because I’ll like it, but because it’s what grownups do, the same way they eat bran cereal and always take their medicine.’ By the time I reached college, I decided that I was the type of girl who wouldn’t do anything simply because it was expected, and thus shunned any future plans involving morning coffees and newspapers. But fate had her way, and I eventually married into a family of coffee drinkers. Oh, I held out for many years. I flirted a bit here and there, but you came on so strong, I was overwhelmed. But then – I don’t know which of us changed, or when, but bit by bit I found you more and more appealing. With a little bit of sweetness, you could be quite alluring. And with just the right amount of velvet creaminess, oh my! What began as an experimental little fling has become quite the love affair. My day doesn’t feel right without you in it. So here I sit, surfing the web while drinking my morning coffee, and I realize – I wouldn’t have it any other way.