The Coudal family drinks a lot of coffee. More coffee than you and your family, I bet. Not that it’s a contest.

I love coffee. When I started blogging, my first post was about how much I love coffee. (I’ve rewritten this.)

I started drinking coffee at NYU. My ex-husband Jim got me hooked. Jim put sugar and milk in his coffee. If it spilled in his saucer, he slurped it up. I thought that was cool and kind of rebellious.

I just added milk. That was in the ’80s. Back in the day before hazelnut, mocha latte, grande, etc.  My ex and I split up eventually. (The slurping from the saucer probably didn’t help. Things that once seemed cool became annoying.)  But I never split with coffee. Once for Lent, I considered giving coffee up. But I didn’t want the headache.

At the New Age Spa, in Neversink, New York, a few years back, I heard they didn’t allow caffeine.

On my first night there, at the communal dining table, a frizzy-haired woman slipped me a pack of instant coffee across the table. She was very sly.

“You’re new here right?” she asked.

 “How did you know?” I asked. I’d just arrived from the car.

 “You’re wearing a cashmere sweater and pearls. Look around — Everyone else is in sweats.”

 I looked around. She was right. I could see I was going to like this place.

 “I’m checking out tomorrow morning,” the woman said. “But you can have my extra coffee packets. Don’t let anyone know.” She looked around, her eyes squinting.

I never used her packs of Sanka, but just knowing that I had the little packet coffee in the back pocket of my sweat pants comforted me.

Coffee would be there for me if I needed it. And I do need it.

Coffee loves me unconditionally.

Recent studies show that coffee keeps women from depression. Check out Consumer Report Study on Coffee. Four or more cups a day? Fine, you’ll be 20 percent less likely to be depressed. So, go ahead. Have another cup of coffee. Better yet, have four. I dare you. Just try to keep up with me!