I just checked with my husband, and he says it's true: I am so low maintenance people sometimes have to check to make sure I'm still alive the way you do with pet box turtles who aren't eating their lettuce and so forth during the winter months.

I'm not proud of this. The whole world knows how much guys LOVE to brag about their women and how high maintenance they are.

It makes men feel like they're up to the challenge of a sassy Mrs.

But whatever. I can't help it. I pretty much missed out on the High Maintenance Lady gene — EXCEPT in one arena. When it comes to soda, I have very, VERY specific requirements.

I like cold Dr Pepper. NOT diet. In a can. NOT on tap. NEVER in a bottle.

Who cares if a screw-on lid keeps your drink from going flat if you don't finish it off in a single sitting?

Not me!

There's only one other soda on this planet I sometimes crave — and that would be Mexican Coca-Cola in a glass bottle. (Again, please note the specificity of my soda desires.)

I have no idea why Mexican Coca-Cola is so much better than American Coca-Cola, although my friend Carrie says it's because they use pure cane sugar south of the border instead of fructose syrup.

Whatever the reason, I love Mexican Coca-Cola, which is why I'm going to give the whole country a shout-out right now.

I LOVE YOU, MEXICO!

YOU ROCK!

When it comes to making the perfect bottled soft drink, you have totally schooled us Americans!

The only problem is that Mexican Coca-Cola is not always super easy to find. Unless you're in Mexico. Which the last time I checked, I'm not.

Which brings me to today's little story.

I started craving a bottle of the sweet stuff not too long ago and remembered seeing it in the Hispanic foods section of a grocery store somewhere in the valley.

So I got in my car and drove up and down the Wasatch Front, checking out grocery stores where I sometimes go because I happen to be in the neighborhood.

(MY HUSBAND: OK. I take it back. You really ARE high maintenance.)

No luck. Mission definitely not accomplished. I returned home empty-handed. Defeated. A mere husk of my former self.

Imagine my surprise a few days later when I accidentally found what I'd been looking for in the Smith's RIGHT. BY. MY. HOUSE.

I was immediately reminded of the classic children's picture book called "The Treasure," by Uri Shulevitz, which tells the story of a peasant who seeks his treasure in a far-off land, only to discover that it has been at home waiting for him all along.

Says the peasant: "Sometimes one must travel far to discover what is near."

Uri Shulevitz! Dude! I call you master!

How many times have I learned this lesson?

Once again the thing I want is already there, just waiting for me to notice.

Now excuse me, please, while I pour myself a cold Mexican Coca-Cola.

e-mail: acannon@desnews.com