Everybody Has an Addiction

Everybody has an additction. Mine is Sonic Cherry Diet Coke.
Well, that's the only one I care to discuss here, anyway. I have
to have it every day. That means I drive 6 miles to get it, because
they won't build a Sonic in my front yard.

I love everything about it. The styrofoam cup to keep it cool,
the crushed ice, the cherry flavoring. Sweet, sweet nectar.

The first sip is a quest for perfection. Have those dear Sonic
soda specialists changed the carbonation cylinder? Do I have
the right amount of fizz, or is it (sob!) flat and watery. Too
much imitation cherry flavor, or just enough? A balance of
ice and soda, or have I been given the cup full of ice with a
dash of soda, usually reserved for Happy Hour 3:00-5:00
half-price time? Or maybe my minimum-wage enabler has
blessed me with all soda and a few crumbs of ice. Either is
as unpleasant as the other. The proper balance must be attained.

I can not describe the disappointment when some part of
my precious daily dose of Sonic Cherry Diet Coke is out of
balance. Once I took a large sip and nearly choked on the
foul liquid, for it was not my beloved elixir, but its unwelcome
cousin, Vanilla Dr. Pepper. How I hate vanilla! I had to drive
back around, wait in line, and demand that they remedy this
atrocious assault on my taste buds.

Last summer, I returned to the Hillbilly Mansion with my
precious boys and my equally precious Large Cherry Diet
Coke. I gave the older boy the key to unlock the door while
I gathered my purse, soda, and a couple of Wal-mart bags.
Upon arriving at the kitchen door, I saw that they had closed
it to keep the cats out, and heard them frolicking as boys are
wont to do: "Imbecile!" "Uh uh. You are. Poopyhead!" I kicked
on the door to get their attention. That wasn't happening. I
grabbed the doorknob, and as I tried to turn it, the lid on my
container of black gold bent, and the whole cup crashed to
the porch. Tears formed as I watched my precious beverage
seep through the cedar boards. No words can describe my
despair. And it had two cherries!

I sent the boys out with a bowl of water to clean up the remains.
I was so distraught that when my Hillbilly Husband arrived home,
he volunteered to drive to town and get me another one. No, I
was having none of that. It was not the same.

Each new day dawns bright and full of hope, with the promise
of my afternoon Sonic Cherry Diet Coke.