It was an act of desperation. And laziness. Let’s not forget that. This morning I found myself too exhausted to get to the coffee shop. The walk would have likely done me some good, but I was too far gone. And driving there would have been pathetic. I would have liked to have *made* some real coffee, in my own kitchen. I’ve got plenty of french roast just waiting to be brewed. But nothing to brew it in (a certain someone broke my french press carafe a while ago, ahem). So I resorted to (hangs head in shame) instant coffee. This happens every few months or so. I hit that low, low, point. Rock bottom, really. And I try it. Again. Remembering full well, then re-experiencing, just how foul the stuff is. This time I loaded it up with a disgusting amount of sugar, but it was still vile. Tomorrow morning, come hell or high water, I will be making the trek to see my local baristas. I have learned my lesson. Again.