When fail equals go to bed

I am a mess right now, and not a hot one.

I don't mean that in a bad or emotional way. I mean I am having consecutive moments of fail, and all I can do is just shake my head.

I decided to make some pom salsa tonight in advance of my Thanksgiving feast. I haven't made any in a long time, so I thought it would be the perfect opportunity. I got all the necessary ingredients while doing my Thanksgiving grocery shopping on Friday and was ready to go at it when I got home from work tonight.

Fail #1: As I was in the middle of pulling the seeds out of the poms, I heard my cell phone clinking to announce a new text message. So, I went to pick it up and read it and while I was in the living room, I turned on the TV. If you've ever handled pomegranates and the oozing juice they produce, you'll probably know that touching anything that was not soap or running water was a very, very bad idea. My phone and remote now come in a lovely shade of ruby red sticky.

Fail #2: After I'd deseeded the poms, I went to the fridge for the next ingredient: bottled pom juice. I didn't bother buying a new bottle because I only used about a third of the bottle when I made pom salsa about a year ago. As it turns out, pomegranate juice is Pasteurized and therefore only good for a couple of days. That's what she said.

Fail #3: I made a clutch decision to walk over to the OK-but-not-as-good-as-Kroger grocery store to buy some more juice. I debated whether or not this was a good idea, considering. Because the grocery is sub Kroger standards, there was a chance it might not have pom juice. But it's still a pretty decent store, so surely it would. And I really wanted to finish the salsa tonight while I had time but didn't want to get in my car. Did the store have pom juice? Of course not.

Fail #4: In my tizzy about the lack of pom juice, I forgot one very key fact about Monday nights: It's How I Met Your Mother night. Dear Santa: Please note the TiVo request on my Christmas list and give it top priority.

I know I've only been a baseball fan for two and a half decades, but I'm pretty sure it takes only three strikes to get called out. I should probably just go to bed, though I realize there's no guarantee that will prevent more fail.