My Blood Type is Coffee

This morning I woke up to the sound of my daughter screaming “WHERE ARE MY SHOES” like it was an emergency evacuation. My eyes opened at exactly 6:47 a.m., which is technically the morning, but spiritually it’s still yesterday.

The mission? Communion prep at church.

Which is Catholic for “You’re going to sit in a cold pew pretending you’re awake while someone softly lectures about the body of Christ and the importance of reverence and I’m just trying not to drool on my hoodie.”

I showed up looking like a raccoon that fell into a pile of laundry. Hoodie, caffeine, existential dread. I forgot deodorant. I did not forget the Monster Energy in my cup holder. Priorities.

I think Jesus forgives. I don’t know if the other parents did.

I sat there trying to pay attention but my brain was buffering like a YouTube video on dial-up. The speaker was saying something about “spiritual nourishment,” and I was like, can spiritual nourishment be espresso-based?

And now it’s noon and guess what? I’m still not awake.

I’ve consumed:

• 1.5 cups of coffee (forgot to finish the first one),

• 1 sugar-free energy drink,

• 0 actual food,

• and 0 ounces of water because hydration is a scam and sleep is for cowards.

People keep saying “You should drink more water.”

No, I should drink more caffeine and get less responsibility.

The worst part? I think we have to go back again next week. Which is fine. I love Jesus. I just wish he did his prep meetings around 4 p.m., when my soul has finished its daily boot-up sequence.

Until then, I’ll be operating on anxiety, lukewarm caffeine, and the sheer fear of looking like the parent who didn’t read the email (I didn’t).

Pray for me. And maybe drop off a Red Bull.

Stay sleep deprived, Tyler