I think I have a Starbucks problem.

I might have an espresso machine at home, a coffee pot and two half-pound bags of Starbucks brew. But I don’t like brewed coffee, nor am I a barista who knows how to craft an espresso, steam milk and add a bit of foam to make a homemade latte. Plus, I hate reading directions.

When I go to work, I think wouldn’t a morning latte be great?

I think again and realize I want to hold out.

I buckle down and work a few hours until the lull of the late afternoon arrives when there should be a nationally mandated naptime. Again, I start agonizing over the latte.

But I only want to buy one a day and I can make it until after work.

Right?

I sit at the computer, typing up my stories, while in the back of my mind the desire for caffeine stealthily creeps toward the front of my mind. I’m typing and thinking, no! You have to wait!

Sometimes I give in to the wicked caffeine pull, but then I feel guilty.

If I get a second latte after work, that means double the money, or 8 bucks instead of 4 bucks. It also means double the calories.

I’m not a coffee drinker. I’m a hoity toity latte drinker, caramel syrup and light on foam, no whipped cream.

If you were to ask my dad, buying a latte a day is plain crazy.

What my dad doesn’t know is that I go crazy all day waiting until I can have my latte.

Yep, Starbucks has snared me into its logo, the siren that tempts me with the call of wanting to be in a different place, escape the real world and sip at the ever addicting cup of comfort.

This entry was posted on Friday, May 6th, 2011 at 7:00 am and is filed under Shelley Widhalm, Writer. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.