(no subject)
It's maddening: I seem to be able to sleep for days straight when I've got things to do, and yet when I've got time on my hands and would really love to tackle some of my sleep debt, my body won't allow me to sleep. The even bigger bitch is that almost guaranteed, I'll start to feel sleepy and want to crawl into bed about half an hour before I'm supposed to leave for Buffalo.
And oh, Cherry Coke. I was holding so firm and really doing well but somehow our sordid love affair began again in earnest. I know that High Fructose Corn Syrup is the devil and totally unnatural and unfit for human consumption, yet my life is unmanagable and I am powerless over oh so many addictions. All joking aside, I cut all artificial sweeteners (and yes, HFCS IS artificial! Just because it's made from corn doesn't mean it's simply corn. Plus we consume too many corn-based products anyway. I digress) out of my diet about ten months ago and drank only teas sweetened with cane sugar and the occasional Jones Soda (also sweetened with cane sugar) or Izze soda (carbonated water and fruit juice). I checked all lables and we threw away all jellies, jams, condiments (organic Heinz ketchup tastes exactly the same! Good to know when you put ketchup on everything) containing HFCS. It was great. We were doing our part: organic fruits and veggies, no HFCS, heirloom plants in an attempt to stick it to Monsanto. Somehow, slowly, the Coke snuck up on me recently. It had been stalking me for a while. The only time I allow myself a no-no beverage is if I've got a migraine and I've had too many this summer to count. It took advantage of me in a moment of weakness and now there are four empty coke botttles in my car, and I consumed at least that many at the beach this summer. My name is Libby, and I have a problem. My mother would kill me if she heard me making light of my actual addictions. I haven't been to a meeting in six months. I plan to make my triumphant return to the rooms of NA when I move to Buffalo. It'll be good to meet some sober friends.
As predicted, I'm getting heavy-lidded, and I've yet to pack my bag or gather my food together. I'm left with a choice: either I get off of my ass right now and get ready and THEN sleep, or sleep now and run around like a dirtbag when I (predictcably) oversleep. It's a no-brainer in my book. I am a dirtbag, through-and-through!
And oh, Cherry Coke. I was holding so firm and really doing well but somehow our sordid love affair began again in earnest. I know that High Fructose Corn Syrup is the devil and totally unnatural and unfit for human consumption, yet my life is unmanagable and I am powerless over oh so many addictions. All joking aside, I cut all artificial sweeteners (and yes, HFCS IS artificial! Just because it's made from corn doesn't mean it's simply corn. Plus we consume too many corn-based products anyway. I digress) out of my diet about ten months ago and drank only teas sweetened with cane sugar and the occasional Jones Soda (also sweetened with cane sugar) or Izze soda (carbonated water and fruit juice). I checked all lables and we threw away all jellies, jams, condiments (organic Heinz ketchup tastes exactly the same! Good to know when you put ketchup on everything) containing HFCS. It was great. We were doing our part: organic fruits and veggies, no HFCS, heirloom plants in an attempt to stick it to Monsanto. Somehow, slowly, the Coke snuck up on me recently. It had been stalking me for a while. The only time I allow myself a no-no beverage is if I've got a migraine and I've had too many this summer to count. It took advantage of me in a moment of weakness and now there are four empty coke botttles in my car, and I consumed at least that many at the beach this summer. My name is Libby, and I have a problem. My mother would kill me if she heard me making light of my actual addictions. I haven't been to a meeting in six months. I plan to make my triumphant return to the rooms of NA when I move to Buffalo. It'll be good to meet some sober friends.
As predicted, I'm getting heavy-lidded, and I've yet to pack my bag or gather my food together. I'm left with a choice: either I get off of my ass right now and get ready and THEN sleep, or sleep now and run around like a dirtbag when I (predictcably) oversleep. It's a no-brainer in my book. I am a dirtbag, through-and-through!