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My addiction knows few bounds. After a week of intense grading, coffee has become my crutch once more. Four down and four to go? Refill the mug and hope my brain cells don’t melt, or combust, or simply give up on me.

It happened the other day. I laid down for a nap at 6:30 and woke up at 6:30…am…

Oh, the life of a professor/editor/business-owner/writer/wife/step-mom. Man, that’s a lot of slashing.

I wonder if my ingrained need to keep productive fuels my coffee addiction. It certainly works the other way around.

I don’t have to wonder—and maybe, now, neither do you—why Ria, my caffeine-fueled vampire, seems to drink a million cups per book. It’s her ultimate distraction—her ability to take a moment, calm down, collect herself, or avoid an awkward conversation that’ll likely happen anyways.

She also has the same trait of staying busy and stretching herself thin: working two job (Holla, I hear that), navigating her own survival, and taking on the world—in a more literal sense than I do.

Let the apocalypse reign, so long as we can still have our cups of joe.

Can you survive without your flavor of caffeine? What’s the one thing you couldn’t survive without?

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