It’s Just Juice

I often feel like the people who reside in this house with me hate me. No other time has this been more apparent than earlier this year their level of hate superseded previous levels. We’ll call it Strawberry Lemonade Flavored Detestation.

I used to be a big juice drinker. I’ve been cutting back, upping the water, but every now and then that damn grape drink will get me. Sometimes it’s lemonade, other times this really delicious peach flavored something or other, all by Minute Maid. Minute Maid has strawberry lemonade juice now. And it is delightful.

We had at least three containers when I left for work. At least. When I got home, after I’d made dinner, and went to pour myself some juice — nary a container. All gone. Fridge bare of juice. Devoid. Juiceless.

I. Lost. My. Shit.

I yelled about selfishness. I slammed pots, banged pans, rolled my eyes, sucked my teeth, asked the atmosphere what kind of rude ass people would drink three containers of juice in one day and not mention the juice level before any adult got home. Didn’t they know I could have (willingly) rectified that situation without all the drama? Believe me. There was drama.

It was similar to one of the multiple times I’d made my lunch, then left it at home only to return and have it gone. Not put away, mind you, for me to have the next day. But gone as in oh, look, she must have made this for me, let me enjoy it while she wastes away at work with no lunch and no money for even a $5 foot long.

And then it happened. One of the hateful people in the house said it: It’s just juice.

WHAT? What did you just say? This from one of the three children who call this place home who seem always unable to put ANY juice back in the refrigerator. Orange juice is still on the table at 5:00 when we all get home from school/work. Juice from dinner is still on the table the next morning. So much ginger ale has gone flat because the path from table to fridge doesn’t exist as visibly as that from fridge to table.

We had water that night. I added lemon to mine because I’m fancy, but I didn’t share because I like teachable lessons. You want flavor? Don’t drink all the flavor.

I pitched such an epic fit that we have not been without at least one half-full container of strawberry lemonade since. The kids have even started to say they’re tired of it, can’t we buy something else? Sure. You can request something else, but make sure you leave MY juice alone.

I did recently break down and get a tropical punch when I was getting my strawberry lemonade, because I am a giver.

They’re gonna miss me when I leave this group home.

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