I’ve tried. I really have.
I tried when I heard that the president of the company said that they supported gay marriage because it was “just part of who we are.”
And I tried again when I learned that they have supported Planned Parenthood in the past.
But I’ve failed.
I’ll admit that part of it is the yumminess of the drinks. But there are other coffee shops that make good fru-fru coffees.
You might be surprised to hear that part of it is actually due to their plastic cups. It’s true. I often buy a coffee just so I can get a venti water and proceed to reuse the cup for the next five days, or at least until the straw breaks (those darn, cheap straws!).
That’s a five dollar water cup. Yowzas.
But, I drink about five times more water if I can drink it from their water cup.
Apart from the yummy fru-fru coffees and the water cups that feel oh-so-good in my hands and encourage my hydration efforts, it’s simply the ability to get away and write. That’s what really gets me.
As a writer, it is very difficult for me to “practice my craft” at home. I no longer have a true “office,” with the blessing of a door. My new “office” consists of a small space in a corner of the family room, which happens also to be at the end of the kitchen counter. It’s rather difficult for the kids to understand that “Mommy’s at work and can’t be disturbed” when they nearly run into me every time they go to the fridge for a drink.
Even Ray, God love him, can’t stop himself from sharing whatever marvelous joke or tidbit of information he’s gleaned from Facebook or Reddit.
I’ve tried other places, but they’re too noisy, or they don’t have enough electrical outlets, or the chairs aren’t comfortable, or the shear number of tattoos and earlobes with giant, gaping holes in them leaves me feeling distinctly out of place.
I do my best, no longer taking the kids through the drive through for their Mass treats, to the tune of over 20 bucks. And I don’t buy anything extra – no pastries, sandwiches, or even almonds to tide me over.
Until then, here I sit, with my family at home on this Monday morning of fall break, reveling in the fact that I’ve finally had a moment to write something, all while feeling guilty because they just got another five dollars of my family’s hard-earned money.