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A Cup of Raging Optimism
For three minutes every morning, I am blissfully ridiculous.
I am unstoppable and without boundaries. No mountain is too tall and there are no stupid ideas. My burnout evaporates, people around me seem pretty cool, and there is nothing on the horizon that risks killing my soul.
It’s just coffee. A totally absurd exuberance hits me within fifteen minutes of my first sip and you can set your watch by its beginning and end.
I was late to this habit, which could explain my sensitivity. I got addicted in my 30’s when Starbucks learned to toy with my emotions through seasonal sugary drinks. These days, my husband does his best to distract me and save a little cash with his elaborate barista skills, which are far less likely to give me diabetes. I usually let him, and the comfort of a hot beverage held close to my chest remains. It encourages me to ignore my children, scroll through Facebook or stare mindlessly at the wall before starting my day. It’s the calm before my three minute manic hurricane.
Three minutes. 00.03.00. That’s how long I get to embrace all that life has to offer with limitless optimism, boundless courage and a total lack of regard for serious consequences. It’s like a roller coaster ride. The terrifying kind that gets shut down after one summer. Here are some things I’ve blamed on my daily spiral, for which I…