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I’ve officially crossed over.

No, I’m not drunk. Nor have I suddenly gone cukoo for Coco-Puffs. No, I mean I’ve traversed that dreaded threshold, crossed from light into darkness, from Edenic perfection into a post-lapsarian shadow world. Like Peter Murphy, I’ve transmogrified into a half-being, a member of the undead clan.

I can no longer drink coffee.

Maybe I’m being a little too dramatic. Okay, I can, theoretically, still drink the java, but the weather’s become so hot and humid that the mere thought of swallowing hot coffee is enough to make me swoon. And iced coffee can be dicey–some people actually believe you can just throw hot coffee over ice and–poof!–that’s iced coffee! They act as if they’d never heard of the cold drip process. Yick.

So for the next coupla months, me and Diet Coke are again inseparable. I’ll miss you, Mrs. Olsen. See you this fall….