It took a cross-country move to get me to quit my daily Starbucks habit.

I’ve loved Starbucks since I was a senior in high school. Every Friday, I’d stand in line at the Starbucks in Denver’s Tamarac Mall (which has since been remodeled to house a giant Whole Foods) to treat myself and my friend Karen to grande white chocolate mochas. It was a comforting ritual that signaled the end of the week. Since I hated every minute of high school, Fridays were welcome, and Starbucks made them even sweeter.

In college, appropriately, I branched out from corporate coffee. It became a weekly tradition to research and sample various local coffeehouses. I found cute little shops that served strong lattes in oversized mugs on concrete tables. I found dimly lit dens by the Platte River inhabited by grungy college kids who smoked and usually looked mad. I found Peet’s. I found Peet’s! I’d spend hours at each coffeehouse studying, people-watching and taking it all in.

When I entered the workforce full time, my relaxed approach to coffee connoisseurship was sharply relegated to a five-minute stop at Sue’s Coffee on Fifth Street in Gilroy, California each morning. But Sue’s had a mean dark espresso (regrettably served in styrofoam cups).

Since my Gilroy days, I’ve visited Starbucks, Peet’s, or a lovely independent San Francisco establishment or another every day. Every single day. Sunday through Saturday.

“Do you have any idea how much money you’ve wasted?” my dad would ask. It’s a valid question. I don’t order a small black coffee for $1.50 a pop. I order a medium mocha or a medium vanilla latte, depending on that day’s preference. These cost anywhere from $3.50 to $5 each. I’ve done the math. It’s a fucking lot.

“But I’m paying for the warmth and comfort of tradition,” I’d reason in my head. It’s something I thoroughly enjoy, and I deemed it worth the price. I justified the cost with the fact that I never travel or go on vacation. The expense of a good vacation was likely the equivalent or more of my measly $3 a day drink annually.

However, the time has come. I just can’t justify anymore. I moved from San Francisco to Chicago, to a house, and living in a house means a whole new category of bills. Landscaping the yard. Getting the lawn mowed. Having a home security system just to be extra safe. This, that and the other and you know what, it’s time to be an adult who pretends to budget.

The first day of my new, overpriced-coffee-less life, I got a headache around 3 p.m. that I couldn’t shake. (Surprise. A decade of daily caffeine will do that.) So I bought a new blender, threw in some spinach, bananas and almond milk, added a tablespoon of espresso powder, and boom. My new morning habit happens to be a hell of a lot healthier, too.