Aren’t most things solved by a to-go cup full of screwdriver?

I went to school in Lubbock, Texas, a flat, dusty part of the southern Great Plains in the Texas panhandle. We actually had a restaurant called Picante’s. It’s a brick-and-mortar, but I do love a good food truck, so I combined the two. I felt Picante’s would be a great name for it since they had one of the best (and cheapest) breakfast burritos in town. It was a plate-sized monster that would only set you back like $4, perfect for the hungover, cash-strapped college student. My friends and I spent many a Sunday morning coming down there, nursing heads which had grown far too large from the night before. It holds a special place in my heart for that. Plus, I’m a Texan, so I’m always looking for a good breakfast burrito. (However, major props to Santa Fe, New Mexico, for making the best breakfast burrito I’ve ever had. Not even kidding. Carne adovada breakfast burrito at the Pantry. Go get one.)

Consequently, if you’ve never listened to that song, “Sunday Morning Coming Down” by Johnny Cash, go find it right now. No song better captures the feeling of a hungover Sunday than that.

-The Retail Explorer