Headed for rehab
I write this having just cracked open an ice-cold Coca-Cola, despite the fact that I haven't had any quality sleep for three nights and spent yesterday feeling like my throttle was stuck wide-open. I have to face a fact: I am a caffeine addict, and I am to a point that it might be causing me a problem.

My typical consumption:

7-9:30 a.m.: Four cups of coffee, with breakfast and during the very long commute.

10-11 a.m.: Two cups of coffee during the morning meeting circuit

Lunch: A big Dr Pepper or Coke.

After lunch: Another big Dr Pepper or Coke.

3-4 p.m.: Two cups of coffee during the afternoon meeting circuit

4 p.m.-on: At least one more Dr Pepper or Coke.

That's the first time I've ever written it down, but it comes to eight cups of coffee and at least a half-gallon of caffeinated sodas a day. Not quite so much on the weekends.

I carry cups of coffee like people used to carry cigarettes, before smoking became gauche. I fly into a rage if somebody takes the last cup of coffee and doesn't make a new pot. I'll be late to a meeting before I leave the coffee pot empty. I view the fact that we get free coffee at work as the best job perk I have. I very rarely leave my desk without the coffee cup.

I first noticed the warning signs Monday, when I left work in a near-rage over a situation that barely merited being miffed about. Then a discussion with The Wife turned into a semi-argument. Then I didn't sleep Monday night. Then I got out of bed Tuesday, wide-eyed, thinking very clearly, "Man, I don't need coffee today." Then, I proceeded to make a pot. Then I didn't do the routine fillup of the coffee cup at work, until the headache got so bad I couldn't see. The warm liquid made a soothing path down my throat and into my bloodstream, and suddenly all was better. Then I didn't sleep Tuesday night. I woke up in a little better frame of mind Wednesday, did the routine, and discovered that I could barely read my morning meeting notes because my handwriting was so shaky. Then I didn't sleep Wednesday night (but more because of thunderstorms scaring The Boy.)

I drank the breakfast coffee today, but skipped the morning-meeting coffee. It's 1:40 p.m. and I'm having my first soda. I'm trying to cut myself off after 3 p.m., depending on how bad the headaches are.

Who would have thought? For Pete's sake, the best damn part of waking up was Folger's in my cup. I can't even go to a posh rehab center and sit through group therapy ("My name is RJ, and I'm a Dr Pepper-aholic.) I gotta go on this journey all by my lonesome. Wish me luck.