Panera is great. Free wi-fi, free coffee refills, superb music, and those amazing cinnamon crunch bagels. But tonight (as the incredible Concerto for Two Violins by J.S. Bach is playing) I’m having the Greek salad, with no hot peppers, no olives, no onions and dressing on the side. (Some would argue: “so how’s that a Greek Salad?” — my reply: It has feta.) But I digress.
I came here because I couldn’t write in my office. As soon as any spark of inspiration would come, a distraction drowned it out. And voila… I just finished writing a show. I think it’s pretty good, and it got done in near record time. But just as I was feeling great about it and refilling my iced coffee, it dawned on me…
I’m a creature of habit. Although I didn’t get the sinfully decadent cinnamon crunch bagel, I automatically filled my cup with the delightful dark french roast coffee. That normally would mean nothing, except I haven’t had real caffeine in probably two months. No soft drinks, no caffeinated teas, occasional decaf coffee. (Yep, it’s really me. Java Joe. The guy who’s veins once flowed with espresso.)
I used to think that caffeine didn’t affect me at all. As proof, I could drink a grande latte or two and fall asleep within minutes. I now know that only proved I was constantly exhausted. Now I sleep better, work better, and have gotten over the weird whimpy feeling of hearing myself order decaf.
But tonight… the java did its magic! I’d better reread that script in the morning!