I had a small party/get-together this past weekend. It was all good and fun, until I noticed someone committed a major party foul. Without asking, a party guest drank my roommate's Shandy without asking who it belonged to or if she could drink it or not.
For those who don't know what that is - I didn't until three days ago - Shandy is beer mixed with lime juice, or ginger beer, or a variety of other flavors. It's from the islands. Being the good roommate that I am, I set out to replace the six-pack to make up for my guest's indiscretion.
It took three days and treks to Rhode Island and Hartford, both of which are an 1+ hours away, to finally get the goods. I got it in a lovely neighborhood in north Hartford, where I stood out like a Q-Tip. The liquor store was the kind where everything was behind plexiglass. At least the store workers were cool. They thought my story was hilarious, especially the part about driving halfway across the state for a six-pack.
I sometimes wonder if I'm too nice. But then wicked thoughts creep into my head and I feel normal once again.
