I didn't think I was addicted to coffee until I realized I was addicted to coffee

I may be taking the word "addiction" too lightly here, in which case I apologize to those suffering or recovering from addictions to truly harmful substances.

It's just that I've only recently come to recognize how much I rely on my morning cup of coffee (not to mention my mid-morning, late-morning and early-afternoon cups of coffee...and sometimes, when it's that kind of day, my mid-afternoon cup of coffee).

If "addiction" isn't the right word, I would say "dependence" is.

When I walk into the office each day, the first thing I do is ensure that my early-arriving co-worker Dave has made a pot of coffee. If he hasn't, I drop everything and get the coffee maker going.

When we go on vacation, the detail in which I take keenest interest is how – and how often – we can get coffee.

My last few jobs, while I didn't ask about it during the interview process, I was always quick to check with a new co-worker on the office coffee situation.

I can get through a day without coffee, but it's not very fun. All day there's a gnawing craving for just one cup of the sweet brown bean liquid. Just one.

I wonder whether it's the coffee I crave or the caffeine that powers it. On days I don't meet my normal coffee quota, I don't feel especially tired. I just get antsy, to the point that I wonder whether caffeine is more of a relaxant for me than a stimulant.

In any event, I don't like being this reliant on any substance. Until I turned 40 years old, I could take or leave coffee. After that point, it was like a switch flipped and it became an indispensable part of my daily diet.

This all worries me so much you won't be surprised to hear I'm headed to the kitchen for a cup of joe. You know, just to calm myself down.