Individual Carton of Tropicana Orange Juice

Every morning I buy a small, individual carton of Tropicana orange juice and every morning I forget to shake it before popping my straw in the perforated straw-hole on the side of the carton. Although I’ve always regarded the juice carton straw hole as one of the preeminent breakthroughs of the 20th century, I’ve found it’s one defect. Once the hole has been penetrated and the perforation is completely broken, the carton is rendered “unshakable.” At the moment one pushes the straw clean through the hole there is no turning back, no do-over, no second chance.

I’ve contemplated placing my finger over the hole and attempting a shake, but it would be just that – an attempt and a poor one at that, not nearly satisfying the “Shake Well” requirement any veteran orange juice drinker has spent years perfecting and taken for granted. The second drawback of this contingency plan is the imminent threat of spillage that would result from a one-fingered shake. Without the convenience of a shower or large barrel while I’m at work, I would never dream of attempting such a task.

Much like I fear rejection from a girl, I find myself neurotic in anticipating when I will next encounter my morning orange juice and drink an uneven mixture of bottom-dwelling orange pulp and watered down concentrate. Despite my attempts at remembering to shake first, every episode concludes with my consumption of an unmixed and sour morning juice.

I can’t continue like this, it’s time that my little carton and I go our separate ways. I know, there are plenty of juices in the sea, but I just wish there could have been a resolution.

It’s at times like these that I wish I had a time machine.