Picked the Wrong Week to Stop...

So I went to the doctor the other day and learned:

A) My coat weighs about 12 pounds and my ego would appreciate if I did not wear it the next time I stepped onto a fancy doctor scale.

B) They have to shave your chest to get an EKG.

C) If it feels like a heart attack, it might just mean your stomach has decided to move on up, Jeffersons-like, into a deluxe apartment above the sternum, where your esophagus rightly claims precedence.

D) Said condition can lead to a disease that I had previously thought invented by a cabal of pharmaceutical companies, acid reflux.

E) After one last Willie Nelson's Peach Cobbler vs. Stephen Colbert's American Dream throwdown (already "in the can," as it were) I'm going to cut back on the iced cream reviews.

But the worst, the absolute worst, is that I have to cut back on my coffee intake. Coffee and the demon that walks like Camel (Light) are the two crutches that leave my hands free to type. I have a long-term plan to deal with the smoking (that is, I'll quit...in the long term. When I hit the next deadline, with any luck.) But the coffee is something I can theoretically get by without, not being quite as addictive, or so I'd always assumed. And even though caffeine is apparently also A Thing I Have To Do Without, screw that noise. There is caffeine in less acidic beverages--green tea, for example. And really, a pot and a half is just silly, and the fancy Cuban coffee joint down the street is a bit pricey.

But it just ain't the same. I reckon I'll cut back a bit, maybe get that pot and a half down to a cup and a half, with maybe another half or three as needed. Slow and steady wins the race. And thanks to the fact I live in the good ol' U.S. of A., I have roughly 73,000 different heartburn medications to choose from.