More about my mental health, because I know you find it so very fascinating--I did quit caffeine two or three weeks ago, and cold turkey, too. In the up-and-down flux of medication adjustment, I didn't really notice any particular withdrawal, because I was too busy feeling crappy in general. So I had that going for me. The problem is, I have been stricken with a deep, abiding, psychological craving for the Dew ever since. It's not about the caffeine--it's about going downstairs at eleven in the morning and getting my little twelve-ounce bottle of yellow-green citrus happy. We needs it, precious. And the entire reason I quit was weight loss.... So I thought, you know, I don't want to mess with my meds and try a new one and go on an actual diet, but quitting caffeine might be a good idea before I mess around with the rest of my brain chemistry, and really, it might be nice to have a few pounds drop off while I'm at it. I'm not expecting a huge difference, but I figured, you know, that might be a nice bonus while I'm going through a crappy adjustment period. Not to mention that messing with my dosages has alternately made me want to eat nothing and eat everything. I'm just saying, I figured it couldn't hurt.

Yeah. It's three weeks later, and I am still in the throes of this Proustian longing for my secret carbonated lovah. No, I don't want to replace it, thanks for asking. I don't want to drink a diet soda (which won't work anyway--where's the link for that study that says that the body doesn't recognize diet soda as "diet"?), a caffeine-free soda, or any other impostor you want to sell me. If it's not Mountain Dew--full stop--it's just colored water, people. I just want to remember all the hours we spent together, the Dew and I, writing the book parodies and pulling desperate all-nighters for class and running through sunlit fields together. I personally think it's no coincidence that madeleine and "Mountain Dew" have the same number of syllables.

I opened the fridge this morning to get some milk and there... exactly at my eye level, next to the iced tea... was a gleaming peridot bottle of Mountain Dew. It may have had sunbeams from heaven and angels floating around it singing holy arias; I was still a little groggy. Sister Girl must have left it in there for later, since she's off work today for a Culinard thing this evening. I stood there and stared at it for a very long time. I could still go downstairs and get it, you know. It could be mine. It could be mine.