If you ask me, that’s how the Biblical creation story really ought to go. I am, as I’ve mentioned before, addicted to TaB soda. Back when we lived in Hawaii, I had to have TaB shipped to me and made everyone who visited bring it with them.
VH secretly suspects that the reason I insisted on moving back to Kansas was so I could have an unfettered supply of the stuff, and he’s not entirely wrong. Unfortunately, thanks to a bonehead taking over the Commissary at Ft. Leavenworth, my supply ran out.
Today, my friend Kim sent me TaB. Four 12-packs of it, as a matter of fact. That’s forty-eight little pink cans full of heaven, all (but one) of them now safely locked away in my desk.
I’m so happy I could pee.