DAYS WITHOUT SUGAR: Resistance

The ice cream truck guy used to know me, and even lurk around a few extra minutes if I didn’t come running.  I was a classically trained Pavlovian.  Ask anyone: dozens of people have witnessed me say, “Oh, here comes the ice-cream truck!,” and bolt for my change jar, and be back before it even turned the corner, into sight, and long before it flicked on its chimes.

I have that change; I am untrained, in the Pavlovian sense.