My addiction

It's not easy for me to admit this but, I am an addict.

Before you get ahead of yourselves and start guessing the nature of my addiction, I will let you know you can rule out the usual suspects: 

* drugs (though I still enjoy the temporary euphoria from half a Vicodin for my cartilage-free hip joint)

* alcohol (though I'm on a first name basis with Jack, Jim and Noah -- all makers of fine bourbon, I'm of Scottish heritage and built for this stuff)

* sex (this is a family friendly blog, you can insert your own joke here)

* tobacco (I indulged in cigars decades ago, but have no affinity for tobacco whatsoever)

* exercise (this would be your best guess, though my girthy body shows no evidence, I work out twice a day and have been doing so for years)

No, my vice, and the picture above should've provided some clue, is caffeine. Administered through a hot cup of black Joe every morning. For as long as I can remember. 

And since this particular posting is of the full disclosure nature, I should tell you my morning cup of java was often followed by my post lunch cup of non fat latte. And countless re-ups in between.

In all, I was draining 10-12 cups of coffee a day!

Exacerbated by the Pandemic and the work from home mandate, which by the way, I love and makes my grizzled misanthropy so much more palatable to my work colleagues.

"12 cups of coffee in a Day!", I can hear you shouting.

Sadly, yes. But it must be noted I have a cast iron stomach and an amazing narcoleptic ability to fall asleep whenever I find myself in any inclined position. 

Or so I thought. You see, once you reach the ripe old age of 44, Father Time begins sending you reminders of your human frailty. These come in the form of aches and pains which often manifest themselves in odd grunts and groans any time I exit a chair, climb out of bed or tumble out of my backyard hammock.

When those weren't enough to dissuade me from my coffee overconsumption, Father Time activated the dormant acid reflux mechanism in my gastro-intestinal tract. This triggered a new addiction. To soothing mint flavored Pepcid AC. 

At any given time you could find 50-count jars of the magical chewable chalky tablets in my office, in my bathroom, in my nightstand and even in the console of my beloved Audi SE5, a constant reminder that I might be too old to be driving this throaty sports car.

And when that wasn't enough, Father Time reminded me the gastro-intestinal tract has two openings. I will spare you the ugly details, suffice to say I have been getting my money's worth from the Tushy Bidet I installed in my daughter's bathroom.

The message has finally been received. And course correction has thankfully taken place.

I haven't gone cold turkey. But I have limited myself to 2 &1/2 full size cups a day. And it has made all the difference in the world. 

The heartburn is gone. 

The achiness has subsided.  

And even my bidet-inflated water bills have gone down.