Because of you I came, because of you I leave.

Once a week, because of a change in my daily routine, I get to take a little stroll and stop at this place that has really good coffee. And baked goods. But I go for the coffee. I swear.

Anyway. Each week, the night before this little ritual, I’m always like, “Ooh, tomorrow morning I get to stop at the place with the really good coffee.” And I drift off to sleep with a smile, dreaming happily of my morning fix.

Morning comes and I wake up, push myself through my rituals of hygiene, and head out the door, looking forward to my cup of really good coffee (and accompanying baked good). And so I head out, walk down to the place with the really good coffee, open the door, and remember the fact that somehow I always seem to forget until this very moment:

I fucking hate this place.

Jesus. Their coffee may be good, but godDAMN is everything else about the experience annoying. It’s packed with people, many of whom are pushing strollers the size of Hummers, the staff is listless and ineffective, everything takes ten times longer than it should, and the clientele seems shockingly unable to articulate what exactly they want once they finally make it up to the register.

And so I finally ask myself: is this really good cup of coffee really really worth it? Why do I put myself through this? And better yet, how is it I forget these parts of the experience, week after week? Is caffeine really that strong of a drug? Or are they, maybe, enhancing their coffee with some other, more addictive stimulant?

Ok, probably not. So the answer must lie somewhere within me. Is it an example of the Best Buy/Circuit City syndrome? You know what I mean: that way in which we sometimes, against our better judgment, shop at stores like Best Buy and Circuit City, knowing full well that the help is going to be retarded, and the experience is going to be unpleasant, and no one involved is going to have any idea what in the hell they’re doing, simply because we know exactly what we want and we know they’re going to have it, and they’re going to have it at a price for which we are willing to sacrifice previously held ideas of what makes up a pleasant shopping experience.

So is the coffee at the place with the really good coffee really that good? So good that I will forsake all ideas of what the morning coffee-buying process should be, in order to fulfill my desire for their satisfying brew? Even now that I’ve realized how much I hate that fucking place???

I guess I’ll let you know next week.