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Hi, everybody. My name is
madbaker, and I'm addicted to caffeine.
(All right, I'm also addicted to books. That's not the point of this post though, so drop it for the moment.)
Hmm. I don't feel any better. Or worse, for that matter. Maybe I need to get a cup of coffee...
Monday night I crashed at a friend's house rather than make the hour's drive home. I still went to bed later than I'd like given my East Coast schedule, although sleeping there nets me about 1.5 hours extra sleep. I've done this before, and I still suffer all the next day. Part of it is not sleeping well because it's not my bed; part is not sleeping well because the wife isn't there. (As opposed to driving home and suffering the next day because I've gotten an hour less sleep than the rest of the week.)
But yesterday wasn't as bad a day as usual. Apparently, the biggest part of my fatigue is not getting my commute mug of coffee for the drive in. The friends graciously providing the crash space have a coffee maker, but I feel vaguely uncomfortable running it at 5 AM in someone else's house, even if I had the time, which I usually don't.
However, I just discovered that the coffee chain near their house opens at 5 AM.
Set the alarm for ten minutes earlier, showed up there as they opened, got a medium black coffee. Drank it during the 20-minute drive. And - felt tired, but not completely dragging as usual.
Okay. So I'm addicted. That's really my only habitual vice these days, so I'm okay with it.
At least I'm not in denial. That's worth something, right?
What I'm reading: C.S. Friedman, This Alien Shore
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(All right, I'm also addicted to books. That's not the point of this post though, so drop it for the moment.)
Hmm. I don't feel any better. Or worse, for that matter. Maybe I need to get a cup of coffee...
Monday night I crashed at a friend's house rather than make the hour's drive home. I still went to bed later than I'd like given my East Coast schedule, although sleeping there nets me about 1.5 hours extra sleep. I've done this before, and I still suffer all the next day. Part of it is not sleeping well because it's not my bed; part is not sleeping well because the wife isn't there. (As opposed to driving home and suffering the next day because I've gotten an hour less sleep than the rest of the week.)
But yesterday wasn't as bad a day as usual. Apparently, the biggest part of my fatigue is not getting my commute mug of coffee for the drive in. The friends graciously providing the crash space have a coffee maker, but I feel vaguely uncomfortable running it at 5 AM in someone else's house, even if I had the time, which I usually don't.
However, I just discovered that the coffee chain near their house opens at 5 AM.
Set the alarm for ten minutes earlier, showed up there as they opened, got a medium black coffee. Drank it during the 20-minute drive. And - felt tired, but not completely dragging as usual.
Okay. So I'm addicted. That's really my only habitual vice these days, so I'm okay with it.
At least I'm not in denial. That's worth something, right?
What I'm reading: C.S. Friedman, This Alien Shore