It all started with this.
A white chocolate mocha, add caramel.
I was sleepy one morning on the way into work. David said “get ya some flavored coffee,” so I did.
And I liked it.
I also liked the Pumpkin Spice latte. (Caramel is good in it, too, by the way.)
And then I bought these — first the Caramel flavor coffee and then the creamers (to make it even better!) so I can make my own tasty flavored coffee at work.
But for the complete experience I added this …
And then this …
And now I can make this … all on my own.
Even still, I went to Starbucks twice this week — once because I wanted my creamy chocolate caramel eye-opener sooner than I could get to work and make it myself, and again when I wanted Pumpkin Spice (a flavor I don’t have the tools to make at work).
Drinking coffee seems like the kind of thing to make me officially “old.” But it doesn’t. I feel a tad more mature, but also a tad immature because I’m dumping so much chocolate and caramel and cream into it so that it’s hardly any coffee taste at all. I mean, this is not my father’s coffee. I feel also a tad more feminine with my “girlie” latte this or mocha that. And that’s a feeling I especially like.
I like how it tastes. I like how it makes be feel.
I like coffee.
(Who would’ve ever thunk I’d say that? Not me.)