I gave up coffee for lent, and even though I slipped a couple times on those early mornings touring New York City and apartment-hunting in Boston, I (basically) lived for six weeks without it.
So, I start Easter morning with a medium cup of black coffee. Something you should know: I always drink straight, black coffee. Unless, of course, its 90 degrees outside and I’m craving an iced coffee. Anyway, I spend Easter Sunday driving all over Virginia with my boyfriend to visit my family and his family, and then we arrive back in Harrisonburg around 8pm on Sunday night. I feel exhausted and moderately overwhelmed with the amount of work I have left to do before Monday, so when we pull up to the gas pump, I run inside to buy a coffee to get me through the night, not expecting any life-changing events to occur.