again with the demon drink

I drink caffeinated coffee about once per week while visiting my parents, tippling whenever Mom presents a plate full of chocolate goodies and fresh-brewed cup o' java.

Magic happens. When I sit at the piano, my fingers fly over the keyboard. (Same for the drums, except make that sticks and tom-toms.) In dinner table conversation, my humor senses prickle. The world is sharper-edged.

Coffee works. At last, neuroscientists are figuring out how.



See also: sip to your heart's delight