I've gotten into the habit of stopping for an ice coffee on the way to the bus stop every morning. I used to only do this once or twice a week, but things have been busy lately and I've felt like indulging myself. The promise of a daily caffeine whoosh is a nice incentive to get out of bed. The sexiness in all this (it's certainly not my morning breath slowly transitioning into coffee breath) is the coffee shop I always stop at is staffed by a band of indifferent, tattoo-wielding hipsters with lip rings. Swoon. Almost as good as the prospect of an early morning caffeine high is the minute I get to spend in line at the register staring dreamily at the scornful stereotype on the other side of the counter.
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