My Trip To the Spa

Don't worry. I haven't really gone to the spa. It's just that I started my yearly withdrawal-from-caffeine ritual yesterday and I feel like I'm having one of those treatments that hurts in order to help. As I told my class yesterday, my condition also guarantees that I will randomly forget certain common words, that I will become unreasonably annoyed at inconsequential matters, that I will feel the need to drink lots and lots of orange juice, and that I will be overcome with fierce cravings for chocolate, Coca-Cola, green tea and even Barq's inexplicably carbonated, I mean caffeinated root beer many times each day.

My mind knows how to stop the coffee urge before I perceive it. But my body keeps remembering new ways to indulge. And ways of cheating, too. I'm sure I'll conclude that I'm due for a yerba maté soon, since it affects the brain similarly. So what's the benefit of this purgatory of purging? I'll gain weight, most likely. I'll get tired at odd times. I'll sleep more than usual. Oh, and I'll be grumpier too. The only consolation, the moment that I'm waiting for from the minute I start, is the moment when I have my first espresso after I decide my rehab is over. There's nothing like a good cup of coffee when your system is all cleaned out and ready to absorb its wonders.