Back in 2005, I had a predictable routine.
I’d get up early, leave my apartment in Brooklyn Heights and tote my laptop to the local Starbucks.
After a few hours of work, I’d stroll across the Brooklyn Bridge to the West Village and settle in at another coffee shop.
By mid-afternoon, I was so caffeinated I could barely type. I had to switch to decaf if I was going to make it to my NYU marketing class that evening.