Let the Torture Begin... or What Have You Done With My Husband

Ugh. I want my husband back. This stranger that has invaded my home is gonna be the death of me.

I know, I know. I've been diabetic for about 15 years. Most of those years I've been a bad diabetic. A few of them I was good. I was very good. Some years in the middle there. Then we took a trip and I fell off the wagon. My drug? Alcohol? No. Chocolate? Maybe a little, but I'm allowed a little. No, my downfall is Pepsi. Dumb, I know. You'd think it was crack the way I'm addicted to it. I know it's bad for me. I know it's sugar. Pure. Unadulturated. Sugar. I know I can go blind or lose my feet or have a heart attack. I know all this. I am an intelligent, reasonable adult. My husband doesn't have to tell me this.

He's a gem, my Hubs. He really is. I love him with my whole heart. But since he found out he's diabetic, he's gotten on the bandwagon whole hog. That's a good thing... for him. Probably, in the long run, a good thing for me. Right now? I'd like to cut off his nose so he'd quit sticking in my business.

Gotta go figure out something we can both eat for supper. *sigh*