The unthinkable has happened: I’ve hit the Diet Coke wall.
I’m starting to cut back on my non-stop Diet Coke consumption. Earlier this week I was happily drinking away when I realized .. this doesn’t really taste all that good. And I’m only drinking it because it’s in front of me. It’s only been a couple of days, but I’m actively monitoring how much Diet Coke I drink and, when thirsty, reaching for water instead. I’m not quitting cold turkey – I still LIKE Diet Coke; I just find that the 4th or 5th can doesn’t taste as good as it used to. I don’t know how long this will go on, but I do know I went a whole Cuban vacation without drinking Diet Coke and I survived easily – so why not try again? If nothing else, it’ll be an adventure. I do so love me an adventure!
Some things, however, are not an adventure – like the festering wounds on my right hand, for example. Last night Lemon forgot he wasn’t being a little asshole anymore, and bit me really fucking hard while I was petting him. I pulled back, but not before he got me really hard on the palm of my right hand – his fangs sunk in in the middle of my palm and between my ring and pinky fingers. I cleaned the holes and doused them with alcohol, but this morning my right hand is stiff and sore. It hurts to use my hand, and I can’t make a fist which is really annoying because I love punching things. Naturally, I’m now convinced I have some sort of rabies and several staph infections not to mention horrible germy cat mouth diseases all up in my hand business. I’ve been ignoring Lemon since last night, and he seems sad (which is really just my imagination – he’s inbred, so a) he always looks sad and b) he’s an asshole; he LIKED biting me), but I suppose I will forgive the little bastard if he tries to be cute at me again. In the meantime, I hurt in my hand. It might fall off. Does my travel insurance cover missing limbs?