To use my mother’s phrase, I’ve got more forms of coffee than you can shake a stick at. There’s the espresso pods (caff and decaf), bags of beans that I get as payment for editing a friend’s professional articles, and now, since it’s winter, there is Pocket Coffee. I probably even have a couple sleeves of Nescafé laying around, just in case the apocalypse arrives and I need to throw together a Go Bag. I also keep boxes of Lavazza capsules at work to both prepare and reward myself for attending numerous meetings. I like coffee.But then there’s the twice-yearly visit to the dentist. I go because it is wise to maintain my oral hygiene, but in all honesty I really show up because I desperately need the coffee sediment extracted from my teeth. My near-religious devotion never fails to leave me with high quality, single origin tooth stains—and this is truly the only aspect I dislike about my caffeine consumption.“You should drink your coffee through a straw.” This instruction was offered by a former dental hygienist. Yeah sure, I thought as she used that sonic instrument of torture on my lower jaw. I could totally picture myself standing in our office kitchen with a bunch of Italians as I sipped my half inch of espresso through a drinking straw. That’s exactly what I’m going to do.

“Try brushing your teeth after you drink coffee.” This was another suggestion I’ve received in the past. Although more discreet, I still don’t see myself walking around with a toothbrush in my pocket. The thing is, I drink coffee because it makes me happy—and also because it’s a great social ritual. But more significantly, beyond these two factors, there are really only so many “shoulds” that I am willing to incorporate into life.  As I go through my day, I quickly find that there are more prescriptions for life optimization than I can possibly adopt: Get 8 hours of sleep. Don’t slouch. Stretch properly after a run. Brush your teeth after every meal (or cup of coffee). Wear shoes that are hideous but so much better for your feet. All of this sound advice, juxtaposed with our lightning-fast clip of living, reveals why so much of this well-meaning direction gets disregarded.

To wit: Often times I arrive home very late from a work trip. The morning after provides just enough time to wake up, find a pair of black socks (a critical component of my work attire), down a cup of coffee and run out the door. 8 hours of sleep? This wasn’t even a consideration. Exercise? Well I’ll run the one mile to the office in my Toms after I get off the train. But once in the office I won’t stretch (because I’ll just have to explain what I’m doing on the floor)—so I will instead rifle around for the ibuprofen supply that is located in my desk next to the Lavazza. Real life living.

As kids we always sat through health class and were taught basic formulas for balanced living: eat 5 servings of vegetables a day (or whatever), don’t smoke, don’t eat junk food. Then I would go home and observe the behavior of the adult role models in my life. They smoked. Alcoholic drinks were passed around evening parties that were laced with laughter and a light mood. Hot Velveeta cheese dip with ground beef and salsa mixed were scooped up by glorious tortilla chips fried in oil. There was so much real-world behavior that didn’t seem to jive with what I was told in the carefully-constructed confines of the classroom.

And now that I’m an adult and have a few hundred layers of experience wearing me down, I finally understand the discord. In our daily obligations we are constantly sprinting while at the same time scanning for fleeting seconds that we can grab for ourselves. Moments where we take in a cup of black gold, grab a few drags of a cigarette, or even more rarely put everything on the shelf for an hour and join coworkers for a drink with lunch (hey, I work in Europe). Without these vital moments of diversion, I’m fairly certain that life would be carried out as some sort of proletariat-gray sentence. And if that was our fate, would it really matter if my pearly white smile was the one thing that stood out most? I’d rather have no teeth at all.

“Oh that’s ridiculous!” This was the exclamation of Deirdre, my new hygienist, as she responded to the idea that I drink coffee through a straw. While delicately scraping the scale off my gum line (no evil sonic instrument to speak of), she launched into a commentary about how practical life and clinical recommendations don’t always match up. If anything, I could try removing the lid from takeaway cups of coffee to minimize staining, but beyond that, I shouldn’t worry about this. Maybe it helps that Deirdre is Irish and as such I give her perspective a bit more purchase, but to me her words felt immensely validating. My life is not going to get any slower—and I know for sure that none of it will be fitting through a straw.

As an adult, life can be hard and astoundingly devoid of acceptable reason. It is for this reason that we opt for ephemeral moments that make us happy. Those that give a bit of respite, even if we know that they might not be the best thing in the world for us. Me, I like drinking my morning espresso as soon as I wake up, just as much as I enjoy sharing a quick second cup surrounded by my coworkers. I do hate my coffee stains, but I would hate missing these opportunities even more.

So it’s freezing cold outside this morning, but it’s also Saturday. Today is the moment where I can pop down to the farmer’s market and say hello to friends and old neighbors whom I actually want to see. The guy at the coffee stop knows me, and at this stage I don’t have to order my usual americano—it just magically gets set down next to the coffee lids without my saying a word. There are better things worth chatting about. This reprieve is unassuming yet also fabulous—a moment in an adult work week that isn’t exactly chased, but is most certainly capitalized upon. And I don’t need to tell you that I always leave the toothbrush at home.