Sweet Elixir of Life, How I Loathe Thee

I am suspicious of addiction in any form. Of course I will readily admit my own Internet addiction; there's no getting around that. And I have a near-compulsive need for milk that I just can't explain. But on the scale of quirky habits to life-threatening dependencies, I can live with those two. It's things like cigarettes that freak me out. Any need that is so strong as to compel people to poison themselves with known carcinogens is something I want to steer well clear of. That brings me to the topic of this post: Coffee.

I've been a coffee-drinker for years. But for most of those years, my level of consumption amounted to a cup every few days, maybe two cups if I had a project to finish. Sometimes for a month or two it would increase to a cup a day before I cut back down. And I was always a milk-and-sugar kind of girl, though I switched to milk-and-honey for a while because it seemed (marginally?) healthier.

Sometime in the past half year, however, I became your average pot-a-day black coffee drinker. Part of it, I'm sure, is that my living situation changed and I began living with heavy coffee drinkers. These days we make a pot in the morning, and between the three of us, it's gone by the time everyone disperses for the day. As I am always the last to leave, I get whatever is left. What this means is that if it's there, I will drink it. Even if I don't need it. Even if I don't want it. It's just the thing that I do, unthinkingly, robotically. This type of behavior smacks of addiction, and I don't like it. Whatever the studies say, excessive caffeine is just no good.

I don't know what my point is here, or if I even have one. It's just something that's been on my mind lately, and what is a useless little personal blog for if not whining about one's life?