I just realized something. My old apartment was surrounded by coffee shops, all of which were highly smoky; only one of them had a non-smoking section, and it was one of those token non-smoking sections that does no one any good, because the smokers can’t smoke there, and the non-smokers still have to smell everyone else’s smoke. My new apartment is also surrounded by coffee shops, all of which are distinctly non-smoky; only one of them has a smoking section. It’s a little weird how neighborhoods only a mile apart can have such divergent coffee shop ecospheres.

And yes, I know I should be grateful to live in a city where you can’t throw a rock without knocking over a stack of paper cup-warmers. I’m mentally preparing myself to visit my parents for Christmas, where I once hiked a half-mile to get to a strip-mall Starbucks, an event which convinced my mother that it would be a good idea to stock some Folgers, lest I get run over trying to cross six lanes of traffic while caffeine-deprived. It’s still weird, though.