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I woke up on Thursday with a headache like someone had hit the top of my head with a hammer. This is, to me, the kind of headache that announces “You need coffee,” so, obedient slave to my body that I am, I made my way downstairs and drank the coffee that Scott had kindly made. Not all of it! For I am especially sensitive to caffeine—a delicate flower who seems to require the substance but can’t drink more than a couple of cups of coffee or tea, lest my anxiety and palpitations run amok.