My dad has this expression, that a certain day can be classified as a ‘three cappuccino day’. The three could also be four, or, on rare occasions, five. It means different things at different times – it could have been an especially hard day, when extra coffee is needed, or it could be a day spent in town going from bookstore to coffee house, or it could be a day spent meeting with several different people, each meeting requiring its own cappuccino. My dad takes his coffee seriously, I trait I have inherited.
Today was a four cappuccino day, and I enjoyed every one of them. Most of my days are either two or three cappuccino days (I start my day with coffee and often drink another cup in the afternoon. On occasion, when I haven’t slept well or have been really busy, I’ll drink another one at night to relax and/or stay awake). Four is a bit much, even for me. But two of the four today found their way into my body because I was with other people today. That, together with the fact that for me, coffee first of all signifies downtime, time to relax and hold a steaming cup in my hands and enjoy the smell and taste of milk and coffee and sugar, means that every cup was priceless. (I’m beginning to sound like a certain credit card company here. Sorry about that.)
Sometimes I think I should cut down on my coffee intake. Undoubtedly, I should. But I enjoy the moments my four cappuccino days give me too much for that. I always wonder if its anything like the feeling a smoker might have, measuring the days in cigarettes, not hours. In one of their songs, Acda & de Munnik sing “Zestien sigaretten en een zee van tijd”, which loosely translates to “sixteen cigarettes and loads of time”. Substitute caffeine for the nicotine and I totally understand.