Some Days, the Non-Existent Sun Even Shines On Val's Ample...

You know that alarm horn thingy that goes off on a submarine just before it dives? Sure you do. Even if you've never been on a diving sub, you've surely seen and heard such a situation in the movies. That's what was playing in my head this morning when I opened the shades and looked out at 10 inches of snow. Oh, yes. I was alarmed. When I saw my dire situation, I realized that such a layer of fluffy precipitation mean only one thing:

NO 44 OZ. DIET COKE!

Yes, it was Val's own personal nightmare. A day off work, and no magical elixir to keep her company. Woe was Val. By 11:30, she had pulled herself up by her own bootstraps, turned her frown upside down, and taken matters into her own hands.

"Hey! Pony! Do we have any Diet Coke?" The soda is housed in the basement, right across from the ancient mini-fridge in the alcove under the stairwell, theoretically to be stocked for cool consumption by The Pony.

"I think so. Let me check. Yes. We have two."

"You'd better mean two cold, not two total. You're good about saying we have soda, and then admitting after the shopping trip that you meant we had two left, so we had soda."

"No, there are more in the box. I'll put some in now."

"When you come up to put away your laundry, bring those two cold ones."

Of course this was a simple task. I even told him to set them aside so there was no doubt as to which two cans were cold. The Pony galloped up the stairs and stashed his folded clothing. I saw him bring the two cans of Diet Coke with him. I gave him a few more chores. Carry the laundry basket back to the laundry room. Put the washed clothes in the dryer. Hang fresh towels. I went to whip him up some lunch. Put away the clean silverware, which included five spoons and 21 forks. Yeah. Gasp along with me. TWENTY-ONE FORKS! Apparently, forks are used around this house in a ratio of 4:1 where spoons are concerned. Sure, there's the matter of that remainder. But we won't count that. What do you think I am, an algebra teacher? Of course nobody admits to the excessive use of forks. It seems as if the dudes in my house march to the tune of their very own poetry:

Forks, forks, the magical utensil.
The more you use, the more Val wants your eye as a target for her pencil.

But we're not fighting the Battle of Excessive Forks today. We're talking about the weather becoming a disabler for my 44 oz. Diet Coke addiction. And The Pony acting as an accomplice. I turned to get those two cold Diet Coke cans out of Frig. I saw The Pony bring them up. And so he did. There they sat. On the cutting block. Three feet away from Frig.

After sighing heavily, hoping The Pony could hear me all the way down in the basement while playing with his Wii, I gathered those two cans and the rest of my makings. I detest the taste of Diet Coke in a can. So I scouted the kitchen for extra ingredients. There was a time when I loved me some Cherry Diet Coke from Sonic. Then it closed. I also developed a citrus tooth for Diet Coke with lime. But all I had was canned Diet Coke. I grabbed a 44 oz. cup normally reserved for my refills. Set Frig to 'crush' and filled the bottom compartment of the cup. Then added a few half-moon cubes. I knew I had no cherries. No limes. No lemons. Nothing to spice up metal-tasting Diet Coke. Wait a minute! What was that over on the table by the window? A tall rectangular plastic canister. TWO! Aha! Powdered drink mix. Hmm...cherry. And cherry limeade! That's right. Great Value Sugar Free Cherry Limeade Drink Mix.

I sprinkled some of that powder on top of my ice. Added the first can of Diet Coke. Let it foam down. Added the second can. Let it foam down. Stuck a straw in it. Mmm! Tasty! Just right. Now I have a backup drink when the weather conspires against me.

Thanks, Genius, for asking for that drink mix way back in the summer. Thanks, Hick, for not drinking the mix that you stashed in your special treat area.

I think I can ride out this storm just fine.