nothing like a strong cup of coffee

I wake up perky. It’s my first week no longer working full time and rather than waste my day having a lie-in I jump out of bed to make myself and hubby a freshly brewed cup of Cuban coffee. He is naturally surprised that I am even approachable at this time of day, never mind having caffeine which is at the top of my “Things that are Not Good for Me” list. I feel privileged to have the day open to possibility and I want to make the most of it by having a constructive day. Like a good “house wife” I send Fox off to work with a packed breakfast of healthy fruit (he’s already had a slice of homemade banana loaf), switch on morning TV and tidy up the flat. Next I assess my to-do list and start to tick things off one-by-one. As the morning progresses I find myself becoming more and more excited about my productivity.
By 10.30am, as I am energetically getting ready to leave the flat I realise I am having mild heart palpitations. Thinking that it must just be the adrenaline of such efficiency I head off to run my errands without further thought. I walk as fast as my pint-sized legs can carry me (nothing unusual there) and by the time I reach the high street both realisation and regret dawn simultaneously. Caffeine.
Perhaps my morning “treat” wasn’t a good idea, especially as I haven’t had any coffee for weeks…maybe even months. As the day unfolds I become more anxious and determined about everything I have to get through. After I am told that the kitchen trolley we want from Cargo is discontinued I go into overdrive. I have to have that trolley. I start calling different stores until the lady in Wimbledon agrees to let me have the display model at which point I literally beg her not to sell it to anyone else before I can get there to buy it.
I’m about to rush off to Wimbledon when I suddenly feel very, vey tired. Maybe I’ll just sit down and read for a bit. I pick up a book called “The Fingerprints of God” and all of a sudden the idea of creation and the Trinity all starts to make complete sense. I feel drugged. Ten minutes later I crash. I don’t wake up for an hour-and- a-half at which point I have to drag myself from the couch and convince my body that the gym is just what it needs. But on the way I suddenly fear I might have a heart-attack. Perhaps it is just my subconscious’ way of trying to avoid the treadmill but I can feel my heart beating in my chest and I panic that I am going to pass out mid-run and have to be carried out of the leisure centre on a stretcher. Wow…caffeine has turned me utterly neurotic in the space of nine hours.
I think I can finally understand how and why Castro started the revolution. After drinking Cuban coffee every day, perhaps I too might do something as significant as he.
Sheesh…I wouldn’t really know but I suspect Speed ain’t got nothing on that stuff. I think I’ll just stick to herbal tea.