Dear Coffee,

You are my only friend in the cruel hours of the morning. We've become especially close during these grueling days of "Spring Forward" that have left me confused and craving the naps I gave up for Lent. Looking back, that may not have been the best idea for anyone around me.

Naps are what kept me from sitting on the stairs, describing how thankful I was to be right in the middle of them so it would be convenient for me to go either up or down, even though I would deny both of those options and just sit there for two hours with Liz listening to every depressing song on my iPod. Some may call this strange. I call it Sunday morning. Coffee, you were there for me, embraced my song choices for the road trip home and eased me back into reality. I'll even forgive you for turning against me and forcing me to use an outside bathroom at a gas station in Douglasville.

So Coffee, I love you and your ability to make me function like a normal person. Even if normal for me means watching every single Fred Figglehorn YouTube video and seriously considering the Fred application for my iPhone.