For a while, maybe an hour or two, the spicy water did stick a subtle spring in my step. Though, it was probably just the water part.
Then, I did the inevitable. I drank my first cup of coffee in over a week, a few hours early. And you know what? I didn't regret it. I felt great. I went out. I had energy and pep and maybe my breath smelled a little bit like Postum still, but I was alive, dammit.
In the end, maybe I was supposed to come to some type of revelation. Maybe, for the reader, it would provide a better sense of closure if I had found a coffee substitution, embraced it, and then ran with it for the rest of my allegedly better life.
But I didn't. Nothing lived up to coffee. There's a chance that nothing ever will. Perhaps it's why we have been drinking it for thousands of years. Maybe I'm just a dude who is stuck in his ways. Or maybe coffee is just one of life's simple pleasures -- and to deny myself coffee would be denying myself one of the little things that makes my life a tick more enjoyable.