If you aren’t brand new here, you know that I’ve got mild depression, which gets a bit less mild when the weather turns colder and the days shorter.
Thalia has long commended cocoa butter to my use, for days when ye olde brain chemicals are not leaping to attention as they should be, and promised to send me some back in September to sample. “Maybe you won’t love it? Maybe it won’t be worth your while, in which case you would REALLY hate spending $16-30 on a pound of it. But maybe you’ll put it in your coffee and it will make you want to SING!”
I have been advised that this parcel is now in the mail, and shall reach me next week!
It’s certainly too early for Christmas carols, and a skosh too early for Advent hymns, but…now is the acceptable time for this silly rhyme:
Come, O long-expected cocoa,
Fashioned to aid our minds as we bear the pangs of Eve’s transgression, mood swings that join her legacy – You, O therobroma unguent, You, O moisturizer sweet, Come and allay our gloom and sadness,
In our coffee, or as we eat!
Do not yet go to bed; I know you’re tired from leisurely pursuits from noon ’til night. For all that Morpheus has you enmired, resist his arms, his sand-storm falling light. The sideboard holds one duty left to you, which cannot wait tomorrow’s rosy dawn: there sits three limes of juice, squeezed but unused, whose use, if it’s ignored, will still be gone. Bring forth the juniper, the quinine, ice, lest Gaia’s gifts be given to the air. If pressed for time, then quaff it in a trice, but do not leave the lime juice to despair! Like Joel’s old man, before rest can begin, let us make love to tonic and to gin.