More specifically, a coffee addict.
Before I became a mother, I fancied myself a coffee addict. But I also considered a coffee addict someone who had to have coffee every morning.
I have to have coffee every morning ... and afternoon ... and sometimes evening.
I used to think someone who drank as much coffee as I currently do (sometimes three cups in the morning and then another in the afternoon if I feel so inclined) was on a sure-fire path toward an ulcer.
Now I see my habits as a method of survival.
Sometimes, in my fast-paced world of routine, my love of coffee is what keeps me moving toward the next day. I don't know if I should consider it sad that I sometimes fall asleep with my mouth watering as I think about the next morning's cup.
You think I'm exaggerating.
It was the moment that happened for the first time that I realized I might have a problem.
But I embrace it. I look at it as the silver lining of sleep deprivation.
It's the little things in life that keep us moving day-to-day (both figuratively and literally ... but I digress) and this is one of my little things: my morning cup(s) of coffee.
It could be worse. I could ingest my caffeine in (::gasp::) pill form as I did in my college days.
Okay, how many flashed back to Saved By the Bell?
"I'm so excited! I'm so excited!"
Perhaps I've already overdone it this morning ...