I need you every day, and sometimes I love you. The way you make me feel. The way you taste. But sometimes I hate you. I hate that you’re bad for me. I hate that I want you so much all the time. I guess that qualifies you as an addiction. I probably need an intervention. But not yet. I still need you.
I need you because you give me energy. Because I wake up even before the view from my kitchen window looks like this:
And I go to bed well after it looks like this:
I need you because of the baby handprint of heaven-only-knows-what on my shirt. For a moment the mystery substance disappears and I am happy because you are delicious.
Without you I’d be a lot more grumpy on a morning when the baby digs a can out of the garbage and cuts his finger on the rim and we have no more normal-sized band-aids and the girls are running late for school.
I need you because you taste way better than Diet Coke, and have less calories than regular Dr. Pepper.
I need you right now, Diet Dr. Pepper, but hopefully not forever.