I’ve fallen off the wagon again. Soda is a cruel mistress.

I made it about two weeks this time, which is not a record for me but still progress. I did what I do every time, which is I find myself a little low on energy and in need of a pick-me-up and I think, well, one won’t kill me, and I grab a Diet Mountain Dew from the nearest convenience store on my way to the show. And then a couple days later I grab two, because hey, it’s two for three bucks and I shouldn’t pass that up, right? I’ll put one in the fridge. Except I don’t do that. I drink them both.

Some years ago Mandy and I made the mistake of giving her mom the impression that we simply could not function without a massive supply of Coke Zero in the house. Since then, my mother in law has kept a wary eye out for sales and stocks up on it, and then every time she comes by she brings a shipment. We received our latest re-up on Sunday, and we are simply awash in caffeinated chemical evil. Delicious, delicious evil.

You want to know the saddest part? I bought a new pair of jeans a couple of weeks ago. They were a bit snug, but I told myself hey, I’m off soda again, these will fit comfortably in a matter of weeks if not days. And you know what I noticed this weekend? They totally fit better. Damn it.