It is a story told over and over by me, mainly told to Snowball, and yet, she hasn't once said "Oh, for the love of Mike Nelson, please stop telling this!" Once upon a time, my mental health professional suggested delicately that my mood swings might have been sugar-related, and had I considered diet soda? My response was that he didn't know from mood swings until he saw me on diet soda. Aspartame is a very, very, very bad thing for me. When I've had it, I can't think clearly, I get savagely depressed and irritatingly paranoid. Given the choice between being fat and being insane, I go with the bodacious-cans look every time.
Today Lloyd came home with our sandwiches from the Sandwich Kings, along with a bottle of Manhattan Special espresso soda, which is the greatest soda in the world. Mild fizz, not a lick of high fructose corn syrup, and it really is made from espresso. Upon drinking it, we discovered that a bottle of diet had been mixed in with the regular, and that that was what Lloyd had picked up. "Oh, I'm sorry!" he cried. "Aw, heck," I said. "One glass won't kill me, right?"
Dear friends, this was about 1/2 hour before I tried to post the dough-mixing pictures the first time. Sometimes I am shocked by what an obvious creature my brain is.
It is time to check on the dough, to make sure everything is okay. Then it might be time for me to break out the hardcore bath products.