This is not a coffee maker

My Dearest Java:

"In vain I have struggled. Tea leaves will not do. My feelings shall not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

So, I altered Jane Austen’s quote; but my struggle with coffee is sincerely heartfelt.

After wired shakiness beginning daily around 3 p.m. and a caffeine-induced aversion to sunlight, I declared a while back:

“Tomorrow begins a weaning from caf to decaf, then onward to tea; whereby I shall never glance behind.”

All was well. For a couple weeks, even.

And then…

This odd bedfellow.

What is this? Well, it’s not a coffee maker. And it’s not not a coffee maker.

It’s denial.

The coffee machine and I are still separated. Residing in a dark cabinet, the appliance lives far from convenient.

However, it is difficult to ignore my cheeks a-glow and step a-bounce.

Java, my beloved, you persist.