I started hearing voices last evening. I was watching the show Intervention about an alcoholic woman who wouldn’t stop drinking even when she was so close to death. At the end her family convinced her to accept the Intervention and enter treatment for her alcoholism. Then the voices started…
Voice from the closet (muffled): I’m still here in the front closet where you put me a few weeks ago.
Me: WTF. Who is that?
Voice from the closet: It’s me, Cheddar Goldfish.
Me (firmly): You know I am still on fluids and can’t eat you.
Voice (quivering): But I am so lonely in here. And it is dark.
Me (no resistance): OK, I’ll just take a few of you out so you aren’t scared.
Voice: You know if you chew me one at a time and let me dissolve in your mouth and then have a big gulp of water—it really is a liquid by the time it hits your stomach.
Me (brainwashed): OK, sounds good, but after 10 of you, back in the bag.
Ten minutes later:
Voice from the closet (muffled): So how do you feel.
Me: I’m still hungry but that glass of water really washed you right through my band I think.
Voice (soothingly): You can’t get addicted to food. You have to eat to survive.
Me: OK. I’ll just let 20 of you come out and play this time.
The rest is history, 20 more cracker Goldfish swam into my stomach, chewed, dissolved and washed down with water. MUST.TELL.SON.TO.HIDE.GOLDFISH. I slunk up to bed avoiding everyone. I was afraid I would be confronted by the group of people from Intervention and sent to treatment for addiction to food.
Today is a new day. Last day of liquids and sooooo looking forward to pureed foods. I already have a list of what I will eat tomorrow. Yummy mashed sweet potato and squash. Woo Hoo!