Tuesday, January 09, 2007
I love DC
I imagine it is something akin to the addiction of cigarettes.
I say I am not addicted.
I can even go several weeks without, but then one day the temptation overwhelms me and I break down and buy myself… a diet coke.
I realized I was having the internal dialogue of an addict the other day, when I’d been dc-free for a few weeks. I was struggling with a very busy Sunday ahead of me. Among the tasks on my list of things to do there was grocery shopping. Now….. I am CONSTANTLY trying to make grocery shopping more fun. I often do it after a long run on a Sunday morning, which means that I am utterly and excruciatingly exhausted. I often have a headache because I am dehydrated (as a consequence of the same action). I usually have a list of things to do mile long and the thought of the following Monday is overwhelming. I sometimes can’t find a quarter and if there’s an inefficient shopping cart with a stuck wheel, I’ll find it. The bottom line is, I thought to myself, “What would make grocery shopping more enjoyable?” (It’s the spoonful-of-sugar attitude towards the unpleasantries of life.) And my spoonful-of-sugar, ironically, has none. It is pure aspartame and carbon dioxide gas loaded with caramel colour and zero calories.
I grip the cold metal can in my hand and already feel calmer. The sound of the pull-tab cutting the top gives me excited shivers. But the I drew the parallel a moment later when, with that first gulp, the cold, tingly buzz hit the back of my mouth and my eyes rolled back in my head a little and I could have been shovelling camel shit wearing a parka in the Sahara dessert and I would have been a happy girl.