J is for Juiceless in Jammies

 

 

I have my share of first world problems.  Just when I think things can’t get any worse, it happens.  I’m standing in in front of my overflowing refrigerator looking for the orange juice that my wife always keeps us supplied with. Way in the back hidden by containers of mayonnaise, Dijon and packs of deli meats all I find is a bottle of apple juice. The natural kind with all that pulp laying on the bottom. She’s been too long on her health kick. She is already gone for the morning, so I can’t complain to her.

She went to the gym as usual. I slept through the alarm and I only knew she left when I heard the car engine rev up.  I ignored that and went back to my dream I was having about the chocolate cake I devoured last night before climbing into bed under our down comforter. The long winter’s nap I envisioned was disturbed by indigestion. I had to stumble out to the medicine cabinet that my wife keeps stocked for me.  It was hard to decide on Rolaids or Tums, so I took one of each.  I noticed that the house was really warm and I had to go  downstairs and lower the thermostat, stubbing my toe on the  suitcase we had forgotten to put away when we got home from our trip to the Bahamas on Sunday.  It really did hurt and I had a hard time getting back to sleep.

I had slept through the alarm and now I’m late for my usual routine.  I write a column for the daily gazette , but am still on vacation so to speak.  I  left my column in the capable hands of an associate down at the paper.  I always do my writing from home.  My home office is in such disarray.  My wife promised to clear off my workspace.  It is still covered with maps and brochures from an exhaustive search about where to spend our vacation.  We had to settle on the Bahamas because our condo in Belize was being remodeled.

I pour a glass of juice and go out to sit on my deck.    My neighbor waves from the next yard where he is raking leaves.  “My leaf blower is in the repair shop,” Jack calls out.

“That’s tough” I yell back.  I really felt sorry about that.  I was going to borrow the blower this afternoon so my wife could do our yard.  Now we’ll just have to live with the leaves until the lawn crew comes next week.

I get tired of watching the raking.  All that groaning was really annoying.  I decide to watch TV.  My body has already conformed to the shape of my recliner when I discover the remote doesn’t work.  I have to get up and walk to the telly and punch buttons.  That’s when I remember my favorite team isn’t playing until tomorrow.  Oh, well.

While I’m up I decide to get out of my pajamas.  It’s a difficult decision what to wear because the wife took all our travel clothes to the dry cleaner and I’m left with the khakis that are hard to button.  Blame it on all the rich food we ate on vacation.  My wife tells me I need to go to the gym with her.  I guess that will be added to my busy agenda.  It won’t leave much time though for watching my favorite sports channel, so I have to think about it.

Well, I hear the wife coming home.  I hope she stopped in the drive-through for coffee.  I hope she remembered to ask for extra foam.

I hope she won’t be disappointed when I tell her about Jack’s leaf blower.  If she can’t do the leaves however, it will leave her time to do the office.  While she does that I have time to think about my next column.

Do you have a first world problem to deal with?  I had fun writing this piece in another voice.  I admit to sharing a few problems, but can say I feel blessed. (My cup running over…)  Make that a full double mocha latte.

I’m celebrating my 150th post this morning.  What an adventure this has been.  What a way to start the new year.

While I’m waiting for comments I’ll be laughing at  Weird Al’s “First World Problems.” Laughter is good for your health, so here’s the link.  Priceless. (but free.  I like free)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bwvlbJ0h35A

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2 thoughts on “J is for Juiceless in Jammies

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