So I haven’t had any Diet Coke since Sunday. I’ve been jazzercising and walking and my pants still aren’t fitting as well as I’d like – so Jeff suggested I shock my system with something unexpected. We came up with ‘no soda’ and so far so good. I haven’t had the headaches I thought I would – but I have been some kinda tired all week. Virtually no caffeine for 4 days. It’s wearing me out. That and now I have to identify a new Lovemark.
I did have a small incident this week involving Diet Coke. Jeff has added it to my (apparently) long list of “expensive accidents” — so it’s not as funny as I thought it was initially, but it’s worth sharing. (Other things on the list of expensive accidents include my first digital camera, my most recent cell phone, and the Toyota 4runner I once owned.)
So for uninteresting reasons I have had a can of Diet Coke in my car since last week. It has been either rolling around the passenger side floorboards or occupying one of two cup holders and causing no trouble. Until Tuesday. I got in the car after work – headed to dinner and a movie with my friend Angela – and the can in the cup holder had mutated. The top of the can had expanded up in a small cone shape. The aluminum was clearly stretched to the limit. So I thought about this for a minute and decided that there was really no way to pick up the can without compressing it and making it explode. So I chose to leave it in the cupholder — planning to go out to the car that evening after the weather had cooled a bit, and I would dispose of the can. This plan was never carried out. I got in the car, pulled out of the parking lot behind Angela and headed to Cool Water. Approximately 30 seconds after pulling onto 71B in Springdale — the can exploded. In the car. While I was driving. The noise was incredible. I thought I had been shot — while at the same time being drenched by hot soda. It was everywhere. On my face, in my hair, all over my clothes, dripping from the ceiling… So after I realize that I have not, in fact, been shot– I recover enough to call Angela in the car in front of me and tell her she should head to my house as I probably need to change clothes before we go out in public.
The good news is it turned out to be a not-so-expensive accident. The Diet Coke came out of the ceiling with nothing but water, and as I discover more spots in various places in the car — they are coming off easily with nothing but water.
Laura thinks it’s a sign. From the Diet Coke gods. We can’t determine if it’s a sign that I should continue to stay away from DC or that I should give up my boycott and go back to my gallon-a-day habit. Hmm.