Yesterday, with the sense that my hard-earned weekend would be over with narry anything to distinguish it from my weekdays, I walked in the sleet. I reached the place, ogled what I liked, and formed a plan to scandalously spend illicit funds on ice cream. Illicit in the sense that they had been earmarked for other expenses, but in that moment of naughtiness, I found great solace in my selections:
* A five-scoop cup of pistachio and strawberry; delicious and highly recommended
* A coffee-Oreo frappe
* A slice of coffee cake
My walk home was fun and chilly.
Nearer eleven than ten, hours later, I stood outside and pled with my foreign delivery driver to find my home address; more sleet and wind as I awaited my Burger King delivery in the dark. His eventual arrival and laconic attitude grated on me enough that I was not pleasant with the lad. I went my way into my hole and behind locked doors, pried my hard-fought treasure of sandwiches from the bag. An Original Chicken Sandwich, highly doctored with sauces and shakables-later, I was again mollified and able to put in a few more hours of my-work. I have my burger for today's on-the-clock pre-lunch.
Its not a hard life, but one whose sense of meaning is constantly tested not in the little bumps in the road, but in the absence of a riding partner to pick the tunes.
Thinking of
It's You, Love
Always: You
