My kids think "Mommy" and "Coffee" are synonymous. I think that's some indication of coffee's omnipotence in our household.

They asked me why my favorite color is brown. I told them, "Because that's the color of my skin."

They said, "Oh. We thought it was because you love coffee so much."

"That, too," I admitted.

"They" are five kids in all. The eldest is fifteen. His birth pretty much marked the beginning of my addiction to caffeine. When I discovered newborns eat constantly, I discovered coffee could keep me awake almost constantly, which was enough.

Well, the kids kept comin' (the youngest is five), so I kept drinking coffee. Through the years, coffee has graciously provided me with the waking hours I've needed to feed the hungry, cleanse the soiled, tend the sick, calm the fearful. Thanks to coffee, I've lived a charmed (though zombie-like) life.

I never really gave the word "addiction" a second thought until our first coffeepot fizzled out. A migraine replaced that lousy old autodrip, so I put two and two together and realized, "I'm a junkie."

So, yes. My name is 'Ailina, and I'm addicted to coffee.

Do I worry about the health implications of DECADES of constant coffee-drinking? Yes. Just like I worry about eventually getting wrinkles, eventually losing teeth, eventually suffering empty-nest syndrome when the kids are all grown and off to college to feed their own coffee addictions.

By then, I won't need so many waking hours, and I'll be free to extract myself from coffee's poisonous jaws.

Or, I'll find I finally have the opportunity to get to that novel I've always wanted to write, in which case, coffee will again provide me with the supernatural power of perpetual consciousness. I'll sell a million copies, get rich, and then I can afford to pay for the medical care I'll inevitably require to reverse a lifetime strung out on dark roast.

• 2:07 AM