Heaven

I had a conversation the other day concerning what heaven must be like. I won't get into details, as they are neither exciting, nor relevant.
In any case, My reading habits, having shifted for the time being away from kid's lit, have fallen back on old-school science fiction. This afternoon, reading a Ray Bradbury story in which the forst men to land on Mars discover that it is, in fact, Heaven (and peopled with their loved ones) I came across this line:

"You could hear the tinkle of ice rattling in a lemonade pitcher. In a distant kitchen, because of the day, someone was preparing a soft, lemon drink."

-Mars is Heaven!, Ray Bradbury.

Because of the day. The day is so perfect, that it demands that lemonade be made. because. The day causes lemonade to be made. Indeed.
Et voila. Perhaps my heaven would be made up of days so perfect that they required lemonade. And nights that needed hot chocolate, perhaps.