I remember, back in my military days, when my training instructors would yell things like, “hydrate or die!”  I remember how much I hate drinking plain water, preferring even the powdered drink mix found in my MREs (which are shelf stable for fifteen years), which had a tendacy to taste like flavored sand, to the taste of nothingness.

Fast forward to my current situation.  I woke up this morning feeling as if somebody had dumped partially used cat litter in my mouth while I slept.  You know, that sandy, dry, stinky, pasty, nastiness when you know you aren’t properly hydrated and you’re too lazy to get up and get a glass of water before bed.   Apparently soda and sweet tea don’t do much to hydrate you.  Bummer.

So, I toddled out into the living room this morning on my partially broken ankle looking like a hobbit with hemeriods and sat on the couch.  My oldest child jumped in my lap and said, “Hey Daddy!”  Knowing I had poop breath, I replied:

“Hhhhhhey baby!”

47 minutes later when she recoverd from the funk-enduced coma that my breath put her in, I finally went back to the bathroom to brush my dookie fangs.  My toothbrush came to life, slapped me in the face, and returned to its holder.  I guess nobody really wants a suicide mission at 8 am, household implements included.

I guess that’s the lighter side of dehydration.

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