I was mentally unprepared for the fact I had to eat my dessert without the creamy goodness I had been planning because the bottle of whipped cream that had been sitting in the fridge, tempting me, calling my name, promising me untold delights, instead elicited nothing but a few little drops of watery nothingness because whoever used it last either wanted to hide the fact that they used it up or they were too lazy to walk it over to the trash can.
When I asked around the general consensus was no one knew WHAT I was talking about and hurriedly changed the subject.
