I consume far too much coffee. A strange compulsion for a chappie born and bred in the British Isles, where black tea is the addiction of choice. From childhood I was allowed to consume as much of the bushes dried leaves, suitable brewed in a pot of boiled water, as was my hearts content, and believe me my thirst was not easily appeased, ten or twelve cups a day was not out of the question. For adults the consumption can rise to astronomical quantities, no matter time, occasion, situation, a cuppa is always appropriate and overdue. Only Australians are more explicitly hooked.
Tea bags, or instant powder do not possess the same magnetic attraction as a fresh pot, or nearly the same degree of flavor, moreishness, and most importantly ambience, the cultural and psychological satisfaction of a true and tested habit, an excellent fix.
A small cappuccino machine now replaces my pint teapot. More convenient, less waste, an equal kick with less volume consumed, a most satisfactory state of being.