I am a cafe hussy. I need more than one a day. Sometimes, it doesn't matter which. I drink around. A few weeks ago, we (the roomates and I, that is) started going to a cafe much closer to our house than Au Coquelet- my old standard. They're only open until 9, but they have the best decaf I've had yet, in my almost 2 month long stint of decaffination. Au Coquelet's given me so much- the papers I've written there in peace, the friends I've talked with, the mean girl with dreads behind the counter who turned out to be really nice after a few years. :::Sigh::: Maybe I have a fickle bent to me. I don't even *like* decaf that much, most of the time. It's brown, but not for real, and its sad to see its transformation to grey when a few packs of not-real sugar are stirred in after a bit of nonfat milk. But then I remember how I used to shake every time I walked by a Starbucks, and I think...maybe things are better this way, without the caffine. And I walk on with a steady hand.

So maybe I'll go back there tomorrow, or the next day. To Au Coquelet. Because with all its crazy people and substandard decaf, she's a good old girl. And maybe places are more important to us that we realize sometimes.