Steep learning curve

I got a nasty paper cut yesterday. As if it didn't hurt like a demon all on its own, I foolishly decided to squeeze the lemon on the side of my diet Coke into my drink at dinner. Yeeee---ouch! Now granted I did this yesterday, but you'd have thought the memory of the pain would have stuck with me for longer than say, 12 hours, right? You'd be wrong. I blithely went about making the marinade for the yogurt-marinated chicken today and instead of using one of those handy, plastic, squeezy lemon containers to get my lemon juice, I have to be all snotty and use the real stuff. And no I don't have a juicer. So four juiced lemons later, I was in agony. At least the marinade is made. This stuff better taste like gold given the nerve ending torture it took to make it!

Here's tonight's dinner menu: Yogurt-marinated chicken, mint and garlic orzo, sauteed leeks, and salad. Tasty sounding, no? Don't all rush over though because there won't be enough and I'm not juicing any more dad-gummed lemons. I have learned my lesson. When life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade unless you have a kitchen tool specifically for this purpose which will save any open wounds on your hands from intense pain. What do you think? Too long for a bumper sticker?