Ughh. Where to begin? Did I lose my job first? Or my girl? (Not my Look 585, but my real girl as in girlfriend) I guess it doesn’t matter much, which came first. It happened so quickly, and without warning. It’s like this: Imagine you go to the grocery store and you buy a wonderful array of foodstuffs- things for lunch, breakfast, desert, dinner, maybe even some wine and something fun like say, sardines, but when you get home and start to unpack, you find that all you got was lemons, bag after bag full of lemons- big beautiful shiny ones and little wilted ones alike. “How can this be?” you may ask yourself. You clearly remember picking out the prosciutto, and the cantaloupe, and the Karmel Sutra and a nice, not too expensive, bottle of Cotes Du Rhone. You watched in anticipation as each item passed over the threshold from belonging to the supermarket to being all yours, each one making a reassuring electronic beep as it proceeded happily on its way to the bagger. The Bagger! But how smooth was he? Only sixteen, with that cracking prepubescent voice! By what sublime slight of hand was he capable of such a feat, and almost before your very eyes? And furthermore, where could he have stashed all of those lemons before you got there?
Does not compute, you say? I must agree.
Regardless, the only course of action any man of action would take (and I do fancy myself a man of action) becomes quite clear.
I’m selling lemonade...
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