Every moment I'm awake

I pointed out to BF last week that I directly pass three Caribou Coffees on my new route to work.

"Do you go to that one?" he asked, pointing out one I'd fail to notice. Dang.

FOUR Caribous, not to mention the indies that are sprinkled along my block. My self-control is better than it used to be, but I'm not made of stone.

On Monday morning, I stopped at the third one. I emerged approximately 150% happier than I entered, thanks to a really sunny barista who chatted with me about yoga. Two blocks into this drive, 6 blocks from work, I was stopped and got a ticket for not wearing my seatbelt.

I always wear my seatbelt. I didn't bother telling this to the cop who pulled me over as she a) wouldn't have believed me and b) was a little busy patting down the (for serious) crackhead without a licence that was pulled over right before me.

However, I want to tell y'all that I really am a seatbelt freak. Seatbelt safety was one of the many campaigns I launched against my father over the years (see also: smoking; the importance of wearing a shirt in front of my first ever boyfriend). My carpool mates and I used to sing a really obnoxious song that included the lyric "Show the world you care by the belt you wear!" to our fellow carpooler who preferred not to belt up. Doesn't this count for something?

After I got over the initial frustration of my bad luck, I realized that it wasn't the coffee's fault. I returned to the scene before the crime today, and was helped by the same cheery barista.

"Hey, now that I know your drink I should really know your name," he said (not nearly as creepily as it looks when typed).

I could have cried. A barista who's going to greet me a la Norm? Who might say something like, "Hey, Gina. The usual or you gonna switch it up today?" Who will start making my drink even before I order it, thereby decreasing my wait time while making the other loser, infrequent patrons jealous?

Dreams do come true.