"How I learned to love my addiction"

My Entry for Chicken Soup for the Coffee Lover's Soul.

(Yes, this is a real collection it seems, according to their site)

"How I learned to love my addiction"

My friend Bob told me to write in for this, to submit a story. He tried, but his attempt to 'open the heart and rekindle the spirit' was unfortunately rather literal and he was caught soon after with his scalpel and the lighter fluid. He is, however, getting many ideas towards Chicken Soup for the Prisoner's Soul, many of which are scatological in nature and probably won't see print.

But this story isn't about Bob. It's about my wife Jennifer and the day I sold her to a man living in Columbia. Now, this might seem silly, but it makes perfect sense in the context of coffee. You see, she'd kept trying to sneak me decaf, or even some non-caffeinated drinks, thinking that coffee was bad for you. I told her the sun was, along with the air, milk, and believing you know The Truth, but that never changed her mind.

She kept saying that the coffee was making me jumpy and never took into account our having three kids and a mortgage and the stress of working at the office every day. No, somehow all the problems in my life could be traced to coffee. She even called it the devil's blood and said I should drink tea instead, which has a higher caffeine content.

That is, really, all you need to know about Jennifer. I still don't understand why I married her. I was probably drunk at the time, and she's never advocated that I don't drink. Probably because any sober man would run away screaming from this life of mine.

But the final straw was her complaints about my switching to free trade coffee, when she was the one who advocated not using Nike shoes because they involved sweat lodges or something and child labour. This from a woman who insisted the kids do the dishes and housework.

I explained that it was fairer to the workers and all the ethical arguments that she ignored and finally promised her a vacation and shipped her down their to work on a coffee plantation that isn't free trade. I think this will open her heart, or at least make her understand that it's not coffee that's evil, it's how people make it.

And, with luck, when she gets back I'll be able to never get her a diamond ring just by mentioning blood diamonds and offering her another vacation.

I'd add more, about how the kids are forcing me to add more sugar to keep up with them, but the pot just finished brewing so I need to go. Ciao.

(Which is both goodbye and the Columbian International Affairs Online. Please keep it in for the joke maybe one reader will get.)