I was halfway through my morning coffee when the calendar on my fridge caught my eye, November 1st, glaring like a dare. No Nut November, the internet had whispered for weeks, that absurd monastic challenge where people swear off... well, release. I’d laughed it off, but now, staring at the empty peanut jar on the counter (my usual breakfast sidekick), the universe seemed to wink. The jar’s lid mocked me, sealed tighter than a drum. I twisted, yanked, even sweet-talked it. Nothing. The peanuts were hostages, and I was the fool who’d walked into the trap.
By noon, the curse spread. The almond milk in my smoothie? Clumped like wet cement. The walnut bread at the café? Sold out. I swear the barista smirked when she said, “Sorry, we’re nut-free today.” Even the squirrel outside my window flipped me off, clutching an acorn like a trophy. I was one denied cashew away from writing a conspiracy theory.
Desperate, I fled to the park, hoping fresh air would save me. That’s when the sky cracked open. Not a drizzle, but a full, dramatic downpour, the kind that soaks your soul. I ducked under a tree, cursing my luck, when my phone shuffled to the perfect song. Guns N’ Roses, November Rain. Axl’s voice wailed through the storm, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Here I was, soaked, nutless, and suddenly at peace. The rain washed the day’s absurdity down the drain, and I stood there, grinning like an idiot, letting the guitar solo drown out the month’s stupid rules.
Sometimes, you don’t need nuts. You just need a little November Rain.
View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8SbUC-UaAxE
By noon, the curse spread. The almond milk in my smoothie? Clumped like wet cement. The walnut bread at the café? Sold out. I swear the barista smirked when she said, “Sorry, we’re nut-free today.” Even the squirrel outside my window flipped me off, clutching an acorn like a trophy. I was one denied cashew away from writing a conspiracy theory.
Desperate, I fled to the park, hoping fresh air would save me. That’s when the sky cracked open. Not a drizzle, but a full, dramatic downpour, the kind that soaks your soul. I ducked under a tree, cursing my luck, when my phone shuffled to the perfect song. Guns N’ Roses, November Rain. Axl’s voice wailed through the storm, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Here I was, soaked, nutless, and suddenly at peace. The rain washed the day’s absurdity down the drain, and I stood there, grinning like an idiot, letting the guitar solo drown out the month’s stupid rules.
Sometimes, you don’t need nuts. You just need a little November Rain.
