Ten minutes to write. Less time to read.

I’ve gone back on my word not to visit Starbuck’s. I’d kissed the coffee chain good-bye a while back when I stood in line over fifteen minutes to get my specially made latte and wondered if any coffee was worth that waste of time.

I was good for a while, finding substitute beverages and saving money. But over the summer I’ve slipped back into the old Starbuck’s routine. The latte is a carrot and I’m the donkey in question. Which means I tell myself if I work out at the health club, then I’ll treat myself to a Starbuck’s as a reward. It’s worked really well. I’m getting pretty buff and Starbuck’s is getting three fifty-five a day.

This morning was no exception. I did my aerobic routine and then headed for my latte. There were several other customers milling around the coffee bar and the pace was fast, one hundred eighty degrees different from the morning I swore off lattes. I finally got my beverage and headed to Baroda to have my tires rotated. Zipping down Cleveland Avenue I sipped my extra hot, nonfat, decaf latte — which is about as fake a coffee drink as one can order . . . but that’s another issue.

I took the first sip, making sure I didn’t burn my tongue. It was certainly frothy. I took another, waiting for that coffee taste to rise above the milk, so I could enjoy it. Funny, it didn’t taste coffee-like at all. But Cleveland Avenue isn’t the place to whip off the top and investigate.

While my tires were being rotated, I sat in the waiting room and removed the lid. The contents were a creamy white, rather than the pale tan I expected. Just to be sure the essential ingredient — coffee — was really missing, I searched the bottom of my purse to find something with which to stir the liquid. The only thing available was my steel crochet hook, which I promptly wiped off and stuck in the cardboard cup. Swirling it around, all I found was milk.

So, with tires ready to go, I retraced my mileage to the Starbuck’s and brought my coffe-less latte back. The barista made me another, and this time I watched to make sure she added the two shots of decaf espresso. She laughed about the crochet hook. Fortunately, I wasn’t on a strict schedule today, so I could take the slip-up in stride. But who knows; had it been a different day, I might have sworn off Starbuck’s again.