At work, I have my go-to coffee mug. It’s a giant Death Star mug that holds a ridiculous amount of coffee (or for me, a ridiculous amount of coffee-flavored sugar milk). It gives me that false sense of confidence that life is beautiful and wonderful and that everything is going to work out perfectly just like in those 80s sitcom where all problems are resolved in less than 30 minutes.

It also helps me with adulting. I’m able to keep my eyes open, form complete sentences, and wear pants, all thanks to the magical mixture of coffee beans and hot water.

Since tomorrow is Friday, I’m throwing all caution to the wind and having TWO cups of coffee. I too like to live dangerously.