So, this summer I've been trying to "ease up" on drinking soda...pop...coke...whatever you call it in your neck of the woods. Universal translation: 16 TBS of Sugar in a can. You'd think I'd have some hyperactivity, wouldn't you? You'd think the stuff would be a bit chewy, wouldn't you?? Anyway, you'll notice that I said, "ease up." I meant it. I'm NOT quitting; that would be ridiculous. It's a comfort food for me, AND I have to keep up with kindergarteners...a whole roomful of them, for crying out loud. PLUS in the "almost three" years I lived in Africa, Coke probably saved my life. I KNOW it kept me from (pardon me for saying so) HURLING on numerous occasions. So I OWE soda the courtesy of continuing to drink it.
Well, I'd done really well until I decided it was time to get as frugal as I can. By "easing up" I basically intended to not drink more than one soda a day, if that. There have been many days I've done just that...one or less. I've felt rather good about that. But as I've started pinching pennies, I got to thinking. When I get the cravings for a soda, I will run to fast food, or a convenience store, or grab a single serving at a check out. That adds up.......fast. So I decided to grab some at the store...a 6 or 12-pack. And when I got there I saw the little 8oz cans and thought, "How perfect!" because that would be like 1/2 a can a day which is even better than a whole can. Then I compared prices and yadda yadda yadda, I walked out with THREE 12-packs of soda. I'm a genius. That was three days ago and I'll bet you there's at LEAST 12 empty cans on my kitchen counter. (WHERE IS MY RECYCLING BIN????) So much for doing well. MUST get back with the program...and WILL........won't I?
Anyway, "TOO MUCH CAFFEINE ...leads to COOTIES!" is my topic, not "I HAVE NO SELF-CONTROL AROUND SODA/POP/COKE", so I'd best get to the point. Yesterday, after who knows how many Pepsi or Wild Cherry Pepsi, it eventually becomes bedtime. There I sat in bed...1am...heart thumping...mind reeling. Stupid caffeine. I got to thinking and somehow relived all the BIG memories of my elementary school years...one grade at a time, lol. I'm not dishing it all out today, so don't worry, supper won't burn while you read up, but I WILL share about the cooties. (So glad, aren't you?)
It was third grade. A little boy rode the same bus I did. We'll call him Pete to protect his anonymity, lol. Pete was not a popular kid. Neither was I, but I think he was just one of those kids who got ignored or worse most of the time. He wore black rimmed glasses when they were definitely NOT the style and they were thick as could be, and sadly, I think those glasses...and a bit of an overbite...influenced how he was treated. We all know how kids can be, right? Well, I was the little girl who was never unkind to anyone (unless you count that bully when I was in kindergarten...boy did HE catch an earful...HEY, HE HAD IT COMING!!!..but that's for another day.) So I was always nice to Pete, like I was to everyone. Well Pete had a crush on me....which in retrospect was kind of cool, because he was the ONLY guy to ever have a crush on me...unless you count a guy named "Animal" in high school. Oh help. Anyway...coooties....FOCUS! One morning on the way to school, the bus stopped to pick up another kid, and out of nowhere, Pete comes zooming up, kisses my cheek and zooms back to the back of the bus and dives for cover. So what does Hill, FULL OF GRACE, do? She sobs. I was shocked. I was furious. I was mortified. Did he NOT know that in 3rd grade, the passing of the cooties is greatly frowned upon?????????? Oh how my world fell apart. I rushed off the bus and into the bathroom and tried to calm down and get into class without being late. He was in my class of course and I refused to even look his way for some time. Of course by the time I got to class, everyone in class knew what Pete had done. So on top of giving me cooties, he furthered my mortification (and I'd thought it was already complete, ha!) by telling the entire class. Interestingly enough he followed me in line later that day or week saying, "You can beat me with your baton if you want." He was sorry. I eventually forgave him, but the damage was done. I had cooties. ::sniff::
And no, I did NOT beat him with my baton. No comment on how badly tempted I may or may not have been to do so.
See? Too much caffeine leads to cooties. That should be impetus to give up the caffeine, I'm thinking.