Why do we call it “falling off the wagon”? I decided to internet sleuth, which means I used my normal method. I went to Google and browsed the first page. If the first page did not net results I changed my search words, because who wants to click on more than one page? After all I would be there all day going through page after page and I would never get on with my blog entry.
Let's get back to “falling off the wagon”. I am positive that most of you know where the phrase originated from, but for the very few who don’t I decided to cut and paste YAHOO’s answer:
In the late 1800s, many Americans campaigned for a government ban on liquor (crazy, we know). Those who chose to live the sober life were said to be "on the wagon." Maven’s Word of the Day explains that in this case, the "wagon" was actually a water cart used to hose down dusty roads on hot days. Basically, saying that a person was "on the wagon" was shorthand for "they would sooner climb aboard a water cart to quench their thirst" than have a drop of liquor. We doubt many demonstrated the vow by actually jumping up on carts, but the phrase makes their commitment clear.
Now that you know what falling off the wagon is I know you will understand how serious my situation is. I fell off the wagon. In essence I gave up hose water for a cookie. (I just filled in my addiction.) I have been bumping down a road lined with baked goods for four whole days without succumbing to one cookie. And then I was just looking over the side, and bam I did a face plant into a big chocolate chip cookie.
It was easier to stay away from temptation in the 1800’s then it is today. I am positive there were no on-board-wagon-TVs in the 1800’s, so those folks were not tempted by tantalizing alcohol commercials as they rode down the road getting splinters on their bums. I on the other hand sit in my comfortable chair in front of my television and I am accosted with commercial after commercial telling me to go and buy Pepperidge Farm cookies. (A person can only be so strong.) Another thing that made life easy on them guys back then was the the amount of bars they had to choose from. They probably only had one watering hole they could go to . I on the other hand have a hundred stores that I could drive to in thirty minutes and buy cookies from. You see how my life is so much more challenging? All my whining aside the fact remains I, like so many jumped out of the wagon and hit the ground with a thud.
I am proud of my accomplishment to resist my bakery frienemys for four days. I am shooting for seven this time around. I would be BSing you and myself to say that I am going to stay away from cookies forever. I am never going to be able to do that; unless the Girl Scouts stop selling cookies door-to-door. Instead I am trying to learn moderation.
Some of us are lucky enough to come back on board the water cart with bruises and new determination to stay put this time. For some of us we need all of the above plus a good friend and a rope.
I am going to sign out, go and clean up my bruises, put on some band-aids, and hoist myself back up into the cart. When the wagon stops in front of the bakery next Friday I will be the first one out. Maybe...Probably...Where is that rope?
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