in which… Cranberries

The little things have made this week for me. Would you like to hear them? Not that it matters, because you know I’ll tell you anyways.

  • Pea soup for lunch
  • Sunshine
  • My A&P professor announcing my top grade to the class
  • An after-hours cup of coffee with nobody but myself
  • Really comfortable sneakers
  • Classmates asking for my notes. I’ve never had classmates ask for my notes. Actually… I’ve never had classmates
  • Pillowcases that smell like sleep
  • That one song that makes me smile like a schoolgirl every time it pops on my shuffle
  • Driving with my windows down

I seem to find a new drink combo at Sonic every year. Usually around the same time, when summer is starting to rear its beautiful little humid head. I know, the first day of spring was only a few days ago, but I’ve been reunited with my friend, the Sun, and that always puts me in a “Summer-Mindset” type of mood. Back to Sonic drinks… They keep handing me those annoying little stickers with my receipts, announcing a drink combo I’ll seemingly be missing out in life if I don’t try. A few weeks ago I got the one with some cheeky line about Cranberry Coke something or other. I don’t like coke, but the thought of cranberry in a drink totally intrigued me, and the next time I got a craving, I ordered a Cranberry Vanilla Slush. DISCOVERY. It is amazing. Like the perfect intermingling of sticky sweetness in the Vanilla, with a punchy fruit twist in the Cranberry. And since it’s not a soda, I feel healthier drinking it. Though I’m sure the double dosing of syrups makes up for the sugar I’m denying in a soda. Go me and my wishful healthy mindset.

Funny story. A few minutes ago I went in the garage to check on Kreacher [he’s been sick] and the garage door is cracked enough for the cats to slip outside if they want to. So Zeus, Josiah’s adorable dog, hears me and sticks his nose under the garage door, and after seeing me starts whining like he’s loved-starved. I’m laughing at him trying to fit under the door and scratching the tip of his nose, when out of the dark, vapid abyss of the inner sanctum of my garage, my cat launches himself past me and into the air, lands on poor Zeus’ nose and starts mutilating that sucker, howling like a banshee the entire time. I’m standing there with a dumb look on my face, too startled to save Zeus, who gets the freak out of there ASAP. And for the next few minutes I’m in the garage, my cat positions himself between me and the garage door at all times, and growls anytime Zeus tries to come towards the door. Ladies and Gentlemen, I have raised a guard cat.

Your argument is invalid.

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