Losing my head

I’m trying to put the brakes on drinking coffee at work. I think coffee screws up my sleep rhythms so I’ve been scouting out beverages to replace my standard weekday Grande Bold. Earl Grey tea and hot chocolate are the usual fallbacks, but they're not nearly as seductive as that liquid siren known as the black gold. I went cold turkey for a few months this summer but that would be mercilessly difficult in the cold winter months when the office feels like the inside of a meat locker. I know someone amazing who recently kicked a powerful addiction without losing his head. What the hell is my problem?

Poor Tinkerbell! She was last seen - in one piece - atop a white birthday cake early Saturday evening. Later that night, after the cake (angel food, ironically) had been devoured down to its crumbs by depraved partiers (note the icing scrapings on the plate), the merriment clearly took a downturn and little Tinky was beheaded with a knife. The scenario was a gruesome morning-after discovery. I couldn't guess who butchered her or why. Maybe it was a case of "wrong place, wrong time" for the fairy. On the bright side, without a head, her potential to degrade into a flesh-eating zombie has completely vanished. Is it safer in here, or is it just me?