My Addiction

It seems there is now a name for my once nameless addiction to idling away the hours at the neighborhood Starbucks, soaking up the ever-present California sun while enjoying some intellectual chit-chat with a friend or reading a great novel with a long empty cup on the table, which I keep there in plain view of everyone to justify my temporary lingering and lounging at the table. It must be made clear that I have, or at least had, a reason to sit there, as I was a paying customer. This particular and unique addiction, I'm told, is an addiction to "air lattes." The trick is to buy what you can afford, one cup, one bean, whatever, and just keep the evidence of your patronage on the table whilst you go about your business undisturbed.