Lately, I’ve been hearing the phrase “first-world problems” bandied about quite a bit. Like when you have to wait in the doctor’s office prior to undergoing an expensive elective surgery for TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES and they don’t even have the latest issue of Teen People. That’s a first-world problem.

Or when you drive your hybrid automobile to go vote in a democratic election but the air conditioning inside the polling booth is just a tad too chilly. That’s another first-world problem.

I have first-world problems all the live long day. If you’re reading this blog, I’m guessing you do, too.

But last night I had the first-world problem to crown all first-world problems. It was possibly even a half-world, zero-world or negative-third world problem.

I was reclining on my feather bedspread, perusing emails on my laptop, when my hand slipped and I accidentally dropped a large dollop of caviar onto my keyboard. Yes, that’s correct. I spilled salted roe onto my personal computing device. Whoopsy-daisy! But then I thought to myself, “oh, never mind. It’s only lumpfish caviar from IKEA.”

Using the words “it’s only” and “caviar” together in a single, non-ironic sentence? That’s a first-world problem.

(Photo by Bill Reese / via Caviar Emptor)