Staggering out of bed after a sleepless night with my youngest, to find an empty container of milk sitting up in the fridge waiting to welcome me.
My morning coffee is my lifeline, my lifeblood, my single most important asset in my fight against the rigors of the day about to befall me.
So in desperation I dig out the dreaded carton of UHT. You know, that stuff that your mum likes to call 'cow in the cupboard'. How bad can it really taste? Perhaps if I add another couple of teaspoons of sugar to the mix I can dilute the taste. Holding the nose always worked as a child.
So there ends my whinge for the day. A totally pointless thread, but a chance to offload my ire as I sit here twiddling my thumbs waiting for the other half to take the hint from the empty milk carton positioned right beside his carkeys and do the gentlemanly thing of running down to the local shop and dragging a live cow back home.