Hi, my name is Rachel, and I’m an addict. But I’m not confessing anything here that my friends and family don’t already know. They’ve seen the signs: The heightened anxiety, snappishness, darting eyes. The way I examine the street corners when we’re out and my  afternoon withdrawal sets in. I’m addicted to coffee. But not just any coffee: My drug of choice is fair trade coffee, with steamed organic milk. I’ve tried other varieties of caffeine infusions. Brewed tastes bitter and gives me a stomachache. I can do tea, in a pinch—I drink it at breakfast every day. But after a few days of afternoon tea I’m more depressed than an Londoner…