I only ever listened to this book, so I don’t know if that’s how Sir Pratchett wrote the phrase, but as voiced by Stephen Briggs, it popped into my head today. *
My mood hit a pretty significant low today. When I’m cruising along, all stable and pleasant, too many times have I rolled the dice. As I bought the candy bar, I acknowledged that my mood would suffer, but I blithely ate on.
We have this lottery vending machine at work. Yes, we’ve told the proper authorities, but they have done nothing to prevent said machine from dispensing multiple items for the price of one. **
I try to keep my wallet free of change and small bills, because I have a definite weakness where this blasted vending machine is concerned. I’ve had it dump extra goodies on me more than once, and three times I gave the extra away. This satisfied the ego’s need to feel generous, and did less damage to my mood.***
However earlier this week, I horded my bonuses like Ebeneezer Scrooge.
A short time ago, a cheese factory was built in the town I work in, and my honey asked me to pick up some cheddar. I pin-point this as the beginning of the end. I sidled right past that ice cream counter and dutifully bought the requested cheese. I was innocently stowing the purchase in my bag using the stairs just beyond the unmanned ice cream counter.
Suddenly there appeared a young girl behind the counter.**** Hmmm, I thought, John may want to know what flavors they have. I should go look. As I was looking, the customers in front of me dithered, and I was asked what I wanted.
It was so easy to answer peanut butter chocolate in a waffle cone, and hey, I got the child size. ***** Oh my God, it was so good! I ate an ice cream cone as I was driving home in my shiny new car. The devil, you say!
Somehow, I wasn’t just driving past that place the next night. With a will, I turned in and marched straight up to the ice cream counter, bypassed the dithering, sample swilling pre-customers who did not have an hour commute ahead of them and authoritatively ordered another child size peanut butter chocolate in a waffle cone.
This time I dribbled chocolate down my front as I drove my neat, first new ever, car home.
What has this to do with the vending machine at work? I don’t know how I ended up with cash on my person. I used my debit card at the cheese factory. But once I have sugar coursing through my nervous system, signals are sent to my brain. Signals that sound exactly like Stephen Briggs voicing Wentworth, Tiffany Aching’s sticky little brother: IwanIwanIwannaSWEETIE!!
This is where my rational brain should stand up and say, you will be over this urge in a few moments. By tomorrow, you won’t even hear Wentworth in your head. You know how this will tank your mood. It’s been proven over and over.
Well. Wouldn’t it be nice if no one ever did anything that was bad for them. I’m off to make a root beer float.
*Along with many other noisy invaders.
** Sometimes it even gives back all the money you put into it!
***Not to mention my waistline.
**** Man the counter, indeed!
***** Please ignore the fact that a “child’s” serving at the Face Rock Creamery Cheese Factory is probably worth two servings of any kind of ice cream.
How did you like the Pratchett style footnotes?