Skip to main content

Caffeine

I made a huge mistake today.

It all started on Tuesday evening. I went to the gym because, HALLELUJAH! I actually got off of work in time to go to the gym for once- and I even went with another person. Exercise and socializing - yay, me!Afterwards, on my way to pick up my little man, I got a text from my mom and dad. "Don't pick up H at daycare, we have him."
At this point, I should've gone home and made my parents drop him off when they were done. But instead, I met them at the gates of hell, er, Walmart*, and while I was there, lo and behold, I discovered that Coke was on sale. I don't, as a rule, buy pop, because if I buy pop, my kids drink it and then I hate myself for letting my kids ingest garbage. But on Tuesday, since it was on sale and Walmart preys on its victims like sharks in a pool of bloody limbs, I bought JUST ONE case.

I put the Coke on the ledge in the garage when I got home. That way I'm less likely to drink it mindlessly 6 cans at a time. There it sat, harmlessly brightening my garage with its pretty red cardboard, until today.

Oh today. Today was a beautiful day, so when I got home for the evening, I spotted that case of pop and, after a mini debate in my head, grabbed a can and poured it over some ice so I could enjoy drinking it while my child played contentedly with the water table in the backyard.

Now, I love coffee. And Coca-Cola is delicious, especially on a warm day with cold, tinkling cubes of ice floating in all of its caramel colored goodness. However, I happen to be extremely sensitive to caffeine, a phenomenon that has only intensified the older I've gotten. If I drink coffee after 11 am, I will be up until 2 am. I think my body latches on to the energy and desperately refuses to let it go, like some crazed woman holding on to the last $50 TV on Black Friday. That's me. My body is a psychotic maniac desperate for the unbeatable deal of taking a swig of liquid and not being tired anymore.

Guess what happens when I drink Coke at 7:00 pm on a Friday night? Did you guess? I'll give you a few more minutes to come up with it. Ready? I'll tell you what happens. Currently, it's midnight and you know what I'm going to do after this? I can tell you because this has happened to me before.
1) Wash, dry, fold and put away the laundry.
2) Wash, dry and put away the dishes.
3) Pick up everything in the house that isn't in its place and put it away.
4) Dust.
5) Read for two more hours before forcing myself to shut my eyes and GO TO SLEEP ALREADY
6) Get up and let the dog out.
7) Start to fall asleep before the dog wants to come back in.
8) Wake up again completely because I had to stand up
9) Remain awake until exactly 52 minutes before the baby is awake for the day.

In retrospect, maybe I should drink caffeine at 7:00 pm every night.......*yawn*

Or, maybe not.





(*Disclaimer: I hate Walmart. Not in a "love/hate" kind of way, but in a visceral "hate isn't a strong enough word, I hope they get hit by a meteor and go the way of the dinosaurs" kind of way. I do like dinosaurs, though. Sad how they aren't around anymore......)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Doing the Dishes

“Wash the plate not because it is dirty nor because you are told to wash it, but because you love the person who will use it next.” - Saint Teresa of Calcutta Every night after dinner, Niles does the dishes. Mostly, he stacks them in the dishwasher and runs it, but often he also hand washes the pots and pans, setting them in the drying rack and putting them away later when they've air-dried enough. He always clears the table and wipes it down, making sure everything is the way it was (sometimes cleaner than it was) before we sat down to eat.  At the beginning of our relationship, when he’d do this I felt somewhat at a loss. Doing the dishes had always been my responsibility, along with nearly every other household chore, and I wondered what to do with myself while this other person took care of  it. It was one of many mundane tasks that had always been on my already-full plate and freeing that space felt almost like cheating. A little breathing room felt suffocating in the con...

Unanswered Prayers

My fiancĂ© and I regularly get into arguments about Garth Brooks. The country singer with the bass twang was a staple of my childhood and I can’t think of a song he’s done that I didn’t absolutely love. Admittedly, most of my adoration now comes from the nostalgia factor; his music transports me back to wedding dances two-stepping with my uncles, road trips with my parents and older brother arguing about what the lyrics actually were (pre-Google life was like that), and romanticizing his adult wisdom about life and loss.  For Niles, who has no such fond illusions, he feels the quality of music is lacking (I don’t 100% disagree with that on an objective level). However, the real thing that turns his ambivalence into disgust is the song “Unanswered Prayers”. As an adult, I can appreciate that the story and lyrics are a little trite and simplistic. But the notion that God just lets our prayers sit unanswered because we don’t know enough to pray for the right things is the real matter o...

Someday My Prince Will Come

How cliched, I know. When I was young, I was not fussy about relationships. I was low maintenance if there ever was such a thing, in part because of my fierce independent (read: stubborn) streak and a complete aversion to frivolity. I was never the girl who got highlights in her hair and spent hours on clothes and makeup each morning. I shopped at thrift stores and went to school with my hair wet 50% of the time. My requirements for "boyfriend" material were that they hold my hand sometimes and be smart enough to talk to for hours on end. I didn't seek out the best looking, I didn't expect gifts or showering, I understood not being top priority and I didn't need someone to  emotionally support me. I was a tough chick who could take care of herself, thank you very much. It should come as no surprise then, that I married a man who allowed me to take care of everything in our lives. My teenage self would have loved that, being responsible for the house, the bills,...