An open letter to the barista who served me regular instead of decaf.

Hi!

I rilly like your coffee shop and you guys are all rilly rilly nice and you have free wireless and I rilly rilly like that?

And you? Were so crazy nice when I bought my coffee? And even told me that if I buy a pastry, I can get the coffee for just 49 cents? Because it’s Friday and that’s your special? That was rilly rilly nice?

And you know what else is rilly rilly nice? Realizing after downing my beverage that I can feel my pulse in my face? Like I could that one time I drank two margaritas made with Everclear? I gave up caffeine 10 years ago and only occasionally allow myself a decaf because I know they have teensy bit o’ caffeine, you know? And now, how do you think fully-caffeinated coffee feels coursing through my veins?

Let me tell you. IT’S LIKE THE FIST OF GOD POUNDING ON MY HEART.

Have a great weekend! I’ll be cleaning my house. And editing a client’s entire dissertation. And cleaning my gutters. And peeling the skin off my body. And NOT SLEEPING EVER, EVER AGAIN.

Oh, and praying for the sweet release of death.

Love,

Cha Cha

P.S. Mr. Wonderful loves you. He says I’m now far more entertaining than cable TV. He is, however, a little concerned by my wide-eyed, unblinking stare.