diet crack and purple panties (a love story)

A long, long time ago as the sky exploded    when the dinosaurs roamed    before you were born    like in eighth grade I started to drink Diet Coke. Diet Coke always had a one-up on the real Coke: it didn't leave that slimey film of sugar on my teeth, it came in a stellar silver can, etc. Four years after my first sip was when I finally faced the music and admitted that I was hooked. On average a half of a twelve pack each day would suffice. But when the end of the semester blew up and I was in a tizzy, a full twelve pack (sometimes more) would just be enough to quench the thirst.

I have stopped all that. I dash through supermarkets on full speed, usually skipping the soda/chips/water aisle altogether. I can't tell you that it is easy.

Two days ago I started it all up again. Four liters in ten hours. I had just lost my favorite pair of underwear in somebody else's room. They were purple. They were seamless. They were beautiful. I just felt good in this underwear.

And now they are nowhere to be seen. Lost for days now and the only person who can give me a clue as to where they could be responded to my desperate pleas with "If I find 'em, I'll take 'em for a test drive."

One love lost. Another rekindled.