Ode to the Drink

Ode to Large McDonald's Diet Coke. 

Oh, how I miss thee. 

Your bubbles. 

Your straw. 

Your perfect ice to liquid ratio. 

(You really can't get it "just right" anywhere else.)

The cupholder in my car is empty. 

Waiting for you. 

Missing you. 

Knowing that you'll not be back for a very long time. 

(Easter Sunday can't come soon enough.  Let's be honest.)

After dinner last night, I was sad.  So very, very sad. 

I had some juice. 

I had some water. 

Nothing. 

Nothing helped. 

(If I resort to drinking the only other beverage of choice-aka wine-I will have bigger headaches than 

caffeine withdrawal ones).  

So I went to bed thirsty. 

And dreamed of you. 

You may know this already, because we are so close. 

I swear I'm going to be too dehydrated for my run this Sunday, dear friend. 

If I fall on the side of the road, it will not be my fault for not training.  

It will be yours.  For leaving me. 

There is no substitute for you. 

I am in love with you. 

I miss you. 

And I will continue to miss you.

Until we meet again. 

It can't come soon enough. 

For reals.