drowning my sorrows in lemonade

As I swallowed my 8th glass of lemonade I realized that I don't even like lemonade. In fact I hate it. Ok so its out there in the open. I hate lemonade. Not even on a hot day, will I enjoy it.

Its too sour. Its too sweet. And its too yellow. I hate it.

Then why am I drowning my sorrows in lemonade you ask? The other day I went shopping. Routine grocery shop. Except I had a time limit, and an item limit. As I had to catch a bus and take everything on the bus. (Side note...one of these days I will be one of those people that you see pushing a grocery cart miles away from any grocery store.)

So as I was saying. I am shopping. The bus leaves in 7 minutes to be exact. I wanted juice. So I grabbed what I thought was the minute maid mango veggie juice. I absolutely love that juice. I didn't even give it a second glance. I made the bus and everything was fine.

Until I got home. I went to pour myself a nice big glass of juice only to realize that alas, it was not the juice I had thought it was. I was sad. I wanted the good stuff.

So I sat down on my couch. And thought about the day that I had just had. I missed my bus to work. I had to take the next one and I was late. I was kind of reprimanded but I think it was more me making myself feel guilty. I inhaled paint fumes all day as we are renovating at work. The sink started leaking, although noone knew cause it leaked into my massage room. I was walking with my hand on my head (don't ask) and I rammed my elbow really hard into the door. And over course I then had to massage a CFLer. (Canadian football leauge...like the NFL, but will bigger balls.) Everyone was in a bad mood at work. I went to the gym. It seemed to be skinny hour at the gym. Enough said about that. On the bus ride home a handycapped man hit on me. He went around and asked everyone on the bus for a pen so he could get my number. I didn't tell him I had 5 in my purse.

In hindsight it was not that bad of a day. But the juice thing really threw me off.

But out of spite I downed that juice like it was the bottle of whisky that I wished I had.

The moral of this story today is that lemons are bad.