Pink Berry Addiction

I woke up the usual way today, with a dog tongue in my mouth. Who needs an alarm clock when a french kissing dog lets you know when it's time to wake up? I did set the snooze alarm a few times by rolling over, but there is no escaping the deeply probing dog tongue.

It was my day off, so I ran errands. My favorite nursery was engulfed in the intoxicating perfume of orange blossoms. It is more like walking through a garden than a store. I slowly wandered around, adding stuff to my basket, which worked out to about $200 an hour. That is pricey for an hour and a half of fun, but not if you consider the summer of enjoyment that I will get out of my plants, assuming that they live.

My next stop was at Pink Berry. I don't want to make libelous statements and be sued, but I think that they put heroin in their frozen yogurt. I don't know how else to explain my addiction. It's expensive. It costs almost five times what I can pay for the same sort of thing from Costco, but Costco's yogurt doesn't feed my addiction.

I settled into a big upholstered chair with my treat and quickly slipped into a state of ecstasy. As slowly as possible, I savored it, but too soon it was gone. My Pink Berry habit is a self-indulgent, $28 an hour habit. Cheap, by heroin standards.

The day ended with me digging as fast as I could to get the plants in before dark. I didn't finish, but that is okay. That will allow me to have more fun tomorrow. There are few things better than having dirt caked under my nails. I feel relaxed from working in the warm sun.

The weather is so perfect it is a shame that I have to work this weekend, but what choice do I have? I need money to live and feed my frozen yogurt habit.