In a conversation with Matt this morning, I argued my point for quitting this ridiculous anti-caffeine campaign.
Matt: “But you’ll feel so much better if you just hang in there a little longer!”
Me: “Maybe. But I feel crappy now, and I did NOT feel crappy when I was drinking regular coffee!”
Matt: “But you might not even know all the ways you weren’t feeling good before, and you will realize it when you adjust to the lack of caffeine!”
Me: “If I didn’t even know about them, then how bad could they be? I was sleeping great, not irritable during the day, and certainly not this tired!”
My argument defied logic, so Matt gave up. This is the normal course of minor arguments around here. Logic: 0, Lack of Logic: 9.
At dinnertime, I was dancing around the kitchen, giddy with enthusiasm about my day, the kids, and the burritos Matt brought home for us. “Do you know why I’m SO EXCITED??” I asked, my eyes fairly bugging out of my head. Amused, he said that he did not.
I imagined him thinking that maybe it was because it had been my work day at Lyle’s co-op, or perhaps because I’d finally gone to the dentist for the first time since we moved to Chicago and didn’t have a cavity. Perhaps it was the dark-o’clock work out, the carpooling, or the fact that I hadn’t had a moment to rest all day after a pathetically short night’s sleep. I mean, what’s not to love about this day? But no. My answer: “Because I had some CAFFEINE this afternoon!” (When you haven’t had it in a while, a half-caf beverage goes a long way.)
Matt proceeded to poke merciless fun at me at the dinner table, reducing me to tears of caffeine-enhanced laughter. “Did you happen to say good-bye to Eeyore on his way out?”, he asked, following this up with a brutal Eeyore-like imitation of me these past two weeks, complaining about drinking decaf coffee and being exhausted already, first thing in the morning.
Ahhh. Sweet relief.