Caffeine

It hit me around 8:30 or so this evening.

I had trouble concentrating. I couldn't focus. I felt jittery. I began to sweat even more profusely than usual (which, on a day when the humidity's at 97%, is a hell of a lot). The part of the brain that formulates responses to inquiries like "How are you doing?" or "Did you get my email?" started backfiring, so that a simple question suddenly required an inordinately long time to answer, and the answers that came felt vague and incoherent. In short, I lost my ability to deal.

Why? Where was this coming from? Was I having a mild stroke? Had someone slipped me a mickey?

And then, it came to me. As I had sat writing in the little cafe down the street earlier that evening, I had neglected to ask for decaf. My iced mocha had been fully caffeinated, and my central nervous system was responding like it had stepped on a fallen power line.

The thing is, I don't drink coffee. Ever. Or Coke, or Pepsi, or any carbonated beverages whatsoever. My morning drink is a glass of orange juice, if that. I never got the taste for coffee, and while I'll occasionally down a mocha Frappuccino from Starbucks or, more likely, a decaf iced mocha from the aforementioned cafe (my little blow against evil corporate monopolies), I don't do the coffee thing. And as a result, my caffeine intake is next to nil, and my chemical resistance to it is accordingly nonexistent. So when I DO get some caf in me, it hits me like a friggin' rocket.

I'm finally settling down now, but I've got a slight headache, and I'm still a little twitchy. So this is my reminder to myself that, no matter how tired you are when you grab something to drink while getting some writing done, DON'T GO CAFFEINATED. 'Cause, brother, it'll mess you up.