The crust of sleep held my eyes in a sleepy-limbo as I crawled
from the backseat of my car. We were in Moab and our bellies hurt. Not the hurt you would associate with things like hot sauce or heartbreak or the sudden drop of a
roller coaster. It was much more intestinal. Not nausea, not diarrhea, just very-bad-no-good belly ache. The day was Tuesday, or Wednesday,
or whatever.
Lately, Jackson and I had been encountering a problem. We had no
Internet. Or rather, someone had Internet,
but we had to buy coffee in order to use it. I lack the basic confidence it
takes to sit down and steal the Internet without buying anything. So, we had
only one option: buy coffee. One cup? No problem. Two cups? Well, okay. Today,
I will buzz. Three cups? I sip intermittently, waiting for the moment my coffee is
tepid enough to abandon.
Jackson and I were in the process of learning a valuable lesson
about frugality. Our guts yearned for a simple, inexpensive lifestyle, but our
stomachs yearned for a balanced, less acidic diet. One with more food. And in
retrospect, one of those desires had much more resolve than the other.
See, Jackson is a good friend. But, a good friend asks hard
questions they already know the answer to:
How much is too much coffee?
Riley.
This is what I've been listening to recently in case you're wondering why my ears have been ringing.
https://www.dropbox.com/s/c24zrnwlni9j6b7/December%2011.zip
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