90. Sepia Toned No More

“Sepia Toned No More”

Day one of a caffeine free existence has begun. I feel kind of bad for anyone who has to interact with me.

So far, the sun is shining too brightly, A’s shrieks and thumps are rushing at me with higher impact than usual, and every random joke someone tells me sounds forced and smirky. It’s going to be a long morning.

If you’re about to tell me about alternative beverages, walk away. I’m sure you have lots to live for, and people who need you.

My husband is peeling an orange nearby. Loud.

Maybe I should start taking habit-breaking data, like an ABA practitioner. Or not. Those charts always did bore me.

This brings me to how much life-nonsense caffeine smooths over and makes bearable. I just do not believe that adults were meant to spend their lives without some legally sanctioned anesthesia, available at grocery stores no less.

Images are flashing before me. Watching my elders drink Indian filter coffee out of steel tumblers. Endless cups of teh tarik from college vendors. Cold Yeo Hiap Seng brand flavored teas from vending machines at dance class. Learning to make good chai from my dear relative, V. Choking down grassy bowls of matcha at Japanese tea ceremony classes, and gliding out of there with our spines and cortexes realigned from the caffeine levels. Good times.

Well, those days are behind me. Blergh.

If you are wondering why I didn’t say much about autism today, perhaps I can remind you that you don’t look quite so nice to me as you did yesterday, when tea was coursing through my veins, and you looked softly sepia toned. Today you look like glinting shards.

When I reach the other side of this withdrawal pain, I shall try not to drown you in sanctimony. That’s how you’ll know I like you. Best I can do.

Bye now.

Radha.

 

 

 

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