A Day Without Coffee: The Saga of a Caffeinated Woman Lost in a Decaf World
There are few things in life more terrifying than waking up to a coffee-less house. Forget haunted houses or tax season—nothing compares to the cold, harsh reality of realizing I forgot to buy coffee.
It started like any other morning. The alarm went off, Reina the Pitbull stretched dramatically, and I shuffled toward the kitchen in my usual half-conscious state. But as I reached for the coffee canister, my hand closed around... nothing. The canister was empty. Bone dry. I shook it, hoping for some magical coffee dust to sprinkle out. Nada.
Cue the denial phase:
"Surely there’s another stash somewhere. Maybe I tucked a secret bag in the freezer? Behind the flour? In the closet with the Christmas decorations?" (Yes, I checked there. No judgment.)
When the truth hit me, it wasn’t just the lack of caffeine speaking—I was grieving. Coffee isn’t just a drink; it’s my morning ritual, my creative fuel, my secret weapon for surviving a household full of opinionated adults and a dog who thinks she’s a queen.
So, I did what any strong, resilient woman would do: I tried to face the morning without it.
The World Without Coffee: A Tragic Comedy
First, I tried to “zen” my way through it. “Who needs coffee when you can enjoy the beauty of the sunrise?” I thought, wrapping myself in a blanket and stepping outside. That lasted all of 30 seconds because Colorado mornings can be brutally cold, and no warm mug meant I was just a popsicle pretending to meditate.
Then, I attempted tea. I don’t even know why I have tea in my house—it’s like the backup boyfriend of beverages. It’s nice, but it’s not coffee. Still, I brewed a cup and tried to enjoy it. Spoiler: it tasted like sadness.
By this point, my family was starting to notice. My husband asked cautiously, “Are you okay? You’re, uh, blinking a lot.” Apparently, without caffeine, I lose the ability to process thoughts smoothly.
When my adult child called, I managed to answer with, “Morning! It’s good to day you.” They paused and asked, “Did you mean ‘good to talk to you?’” Oh, sure. Let’s pretend my vocabulary isn’t held together by a steady drip of espresso.
Reina, my beloved Pitbull, was the only one unfazed. She wagged her tail, thrilled that I was moving slower, which meant more cuddles for her. But even she gave me side-eye when I accidentally poured orange juice into my cereal.
The Desperate Solution
By mid-morning, I caved. My hair was a mess, my patience was thinner than my favorite mug, and I needed coffee now. I grabbed my keys and drove to the nearest coffee shop, where I ordered the largest, strongest coffee they had.
When the barista handed me that glorious cup of liquid sanity, I’m pretty sure I heard angels singing. The first sip? Pure bliss. The second? Life-altering. By the third, I was no longer a zombie—I was a fully functioning, caffeinated human being again.
Lessons Learned
Always check the coffee supply before bed.
Never underestimate the power of a cup of coffee to restore your faith in humanity.
Tea is not an acceptable substitute, no matter what Pinterest says.
Reina deserves extra treats for tolerating my uncaffeinated chaos.
So, if you ever find yourself without coffee, my advice is simple: don’t. Stockpile like it’s the apocalypse, because for coffee lovers, it kind of is. And if you do run out, just know you’re not alone. Somewhere, another coffee-deprived soul is staring blankly at a teacup, wondering where it all went wrong.
