What was I thinking?

Every morning, when I see the Italian coffee-maker on the stove-ring sending off aromatic smells throughout the corridors, I seriously consider decking the owner, stealing his coffee and making a run for it.

I do this, because in a moment of sheer stupidity (and ambitiousness?) I made the decision to give up coffee. New beginnings and all that.

It was a bad idea.

Giving up coffee makes you a grumpy person. Or in my case, an even more grumpy person.

And as lovely as ginger and lemon tea is, it just doesn't quite do the job.

Coffee was my wake-up call. It was the seven minute walk from VT Station to St. Xavier's College with my face buried in the Nescafe cup, it was timeless mornings spent in the kitchen, it was French Tuitions, it was quick dates that I didn't want to last too long, it was chats with my sister at 3 a.m., it was my favourite mug that no one else could touch... and now it's thoughts of murder just for one more sip.

I have an inkling this abstinence is not going to last. Just a hunch.