I’ve had an incredibly busy but incredibly rewarding week. I helped honor a precious group of people and heard pure joy in their laughter.
I came home exhausted and exilerated, and sadly, no one to share it with. I opened the fridge to find left overs to heat up but no sweet tea. Since sweet tea runs through my veins, it was crushing to have to settle for something else.
I don’t drink soda but had a case of ginger ale in the pantry (no clue where it came from). I decided it would be my pathetic attempt to pop some bubbly and celebrate.
I opened the box and put one can on the counter while I finished plating the left overs. When I sat down, it was with a plop and deep sigh…Such an exciting life I live.
Still going over the details of the perfect day in my head, I popped the can open and brought it to my mouth for a deep gulp of poor-man’s champagne.
I felt something funny on my lip, so with mouth still full of bubbly, I pulled the can back to take a look.
There on the can, right at the opening, was a freaking roach! A flat, dehydrated, been there for who knows how long, nasty, roach.
I aimed at the sink, but ginger ale blew everywhere. The roach, however, didn’t move – thank God. I spent the next 10 minutes scrubbing my face and cussing like a sailor. The 10 minutes after that, scrubbing the ginger ale off the floor and walls and cussing like a sailor with a wicked streak.
The lesson here is – watch what you drink because the animal kingdom may have gotten to it first.