I have become what I feared I would become.
A coffee snob.
Not that person at Starbucks ordering a grande frappuccino pumpkin spice with dark chocolate shavings — please — but the one who can’t drink bad coffee.
I have a friend who lives by the code of refusing things on the basis of LITS (Life Is Too Short). For him, it applies mostly to mediocre wine. My LITS is topped by stuff that’s dark and hot going under the alias of “coffee.”
People of a certain age will remember an America when almost all coffee was abysmal. I mean really bad, scorched, days-old, twice-used-grounds abysmal.