My New Year’s resolution was to cut out alcohol as of January 1st. I’m doing fine so far, which is what I was hoping for, and also maybe a little bit expecting (knock on wood), given past experience: I quit smoking on my 30th birthday after having had a pack-a-day Camel filters habit for fourteen years, and I’ve never had the desire to go back. Which isn’t to say it’s easy, exactly: just like when I ditched the nicotine, I’ve had a terrible sweet tooth for the past three weeks. Today, it was an ice cream bar, picked up on my way home from campus and saved for after dinner. So I’m sitting there at my desk, with my ice cream bar, and Zeugma decides that this is very interesting. No dice when she stretches out a paw for it (maybe it’s the food on a stick thing that does it for her?), so she quickly dashes into the other room, and comes trotting back with a Post-It note in her teeth. Deposits it in front of me, looks at me expectantly, and then — when I don’t do what she clearly expects of me — stretches out a paw for the ice cream again. Post-it note, ice cream: that’s a good trade, right?
A Fair Exchange