The Measure of a Man

I feel as though I have one more hurdle to leap prior to becoming a full-fledged adult.
You see, in the past I have dogsat for my neighbor and she has sometimes paid me in cash which can be spent anywhere and on anything, but as a guy in my 20s I have also accepted a 6-pack of my favorite beer as payment for looking after her pooch. A few days ago, she gave me a very nice gift of some zucchini bread from the garden in our backyard. Several days later, I found a case of orange soda on my steps.

Now, if you have been in a conversation with me for any length of time, chances are you have been subjected to one or all three of these topics:1. Facts about the American Civil War
2. Some poorly remembered and recited bit from a comedian
3. My unyielding and undying love for orange soda.

You have to understand, absolutely ANY OTHER soda would have drawn suspicion. I would have slung a Sprite from my steps to Salem. I would have punted Pibb from my porch to Portsmouth, I would have diaper shot a Dr. Pepper from my deck to the campus at Dartmouth. However, because this soda happened to be my absolute favorite, Mr. Optimist Prime shows up like "Well, this was obviously the second part of my gift and was absolutely meant to be!" Breaking the seal on my third can of soda nearly drown out the bleep of my phone with a text from my neighbor saying that that after years of living in the same home, her son had accidently put a case of orange soda on the wrong set of steps and she inquired as to whether or not I had seen it.

The things that people consider lying about mostly include money or merchandise. For me, the knowledge of the whereabouts of a certain soda are included on that list. Luckily, she concluded her text by saying it was ok if I had drank a few, because what exactly constitutes "a few" is still open to interpretation. I handed over what was left and am alive to talk about, so it is safe to say everyone was a winner here.