I’m constantly trying to find ways of gauging life: we could do a “successful = money” thing or we could do a “successful = happiness” thing, but I think both of those are a little too juvenile. “Money is the same as success” is what rich people use to justify their opulence (“I’ll never be happy until I complete my collection of albinos!”) and “Happiness is the same as success” is what poor people use to justify having eight people live in one apartment (“we may not have much money, but we have each other. And a space-heater since the furnace is out again”). There has to be an in-between. In everything.
Take adulthood. I would like to know when a person is considered a full adult. It’s not based on age; obviously if you’re obsessing over the premier of Star Wars, you’re not fully an adult. You can be 93 years old and actually look like Yoda, but if you’re spending your days watching reviews on movie trailers (“10 Insane Easter Eggs You Missed!”), you’re not quite grown up.
I bring this up because I thought beverages might make a good delineation between adult and child. I have a friend whose favorite drink is some 30-year-old whiskey that’s like $80 a glass. I have another who simply likes the Kentucky Bourbon Stout that’s only available for 10 days per year. One of The Wife’s friends is all about some aged cider they only brew in the Upper Peninsula during October. Those are adult beverages; those are adult choices.
Mine is a 44oz. mound of frozen sugar available practically everywhere.
So I decided to take up drinking coffee (which, by the way, you may remember as an Adult Hobby I Wish I Had).
Right now it’s only about a cup per day and of that only 2/3 of it is coffee. The rest is milk. I even bought a cool space-age single-cup coffee maker:
Now, like my friends, I’ll have to drink enough of it to know the different between a six-dollar coffee and a scoop of already-used grounds that I found trash-adjacent.
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