Float

I've been having a rough week.

Okay, it's been several weeks, really, of exhaustive job searching, financial freak outs, not enough fresh air, not enough fruits and veggies, and a lot of couch-grown negativity. But this week, it kind of came to a head, and I have been acting just a little (read: a lot) like a person in need of some serious pharmaceutical help and a lot of talk therapy. There's been crying. Totally irrational, red in the face crying. I think everyone is allowed a little bit of this every now and then, but I am becoming increasingly aware that I am nearing my quota for the year.

Meanwhile in the midst of one of my semi-normal spells earlier this week, I passingly mentioned to Mr. Gastro that I had stumbled upon a food blog out there in the great big blogosphere on the topic of foods from our childhood, specifically root beer floats. And I thought this blogger had a pretty good point. I mean, when was the last time that you, as an adult, had a root beer float? If you had to take more than 7 seconds to think about it it's been too long. Anyway, it was one of those random sentences that sometimes flies out of my mouth, and having said it, I promptly forgot about it and returned to wailing uncontrollably or gnashing my teeth, or whatever it was I had been doing before my synapses randomly misfired and prompted me to want to talk about root beer floats.

And is anybody surprised that the very next day, on a disgustingly hot night, Mr. Gastro came home from work carrying a bottle of A&W root beer and a gallon of vanilla ice cream? Maybe not you, but he surprised the hell out of me. I swear to God, I jumped up and down like a little kid, scaring the crap out of the cat and probably out of Mr. Gastro. I was so stupid happy at the prospect of root beer. And ice cream. TOGETHER.

Later that night while watching District 9 and drinking ridiculously huge root beer floats, I thank Mr. Gastro for thinking of it, and he blushes, saying, "I mean...I know it was silly, but..." and without even thinking about it, I cut him off, and shouted, "It's not silly, THIS IS THE HAPPIEST I'VE BEEN ALL WEEK!"

There was all kinds of stuff wrong with that statement. Like the fact that it was true. And the fact that something that was so bad for me could make me feel so much better. Is that wrong? Probably. I was mortified as soon as I said it. And then I just stopped. Because my own personal dietary health aside, when you're feeling that low, it doesn't really matter what it is that brings you out of it, as long as you get out of it one way or another. For me it was a root beer float. But I maintain that if I had gone down to the store myself, bought the root beer and the ice cream and had a root beer float all by myself, I would have ended up feeling even crappier than I had started. It was Mr. Gastro who picked me up, pumped me full of high fructose corn syrup and made me feel all better, something I'm not certain I could have done for myself, regardless of how much sugar I had thrown at it.

So here is my assignment for all of my fellow Gastro-Junkies out there tonight: If you have somebody you love, and who loves you back, make them a root beer float. They probably haven't had one in a while. And while you're at it, make one for yourself.