When you’re a child, you dream of the day when you’ll finally be old enough to decide for yourself. Yeah, because when you’re all grown up, you’ll have ice cream for dinner, you’ll never leave when it’s the most fun and you’ll never go to bed. Then one day it’s there. Adulthood. You’ve left home and no one is there to tell you what to do and suddenly you realize, making all these decisions is not at all what it’s cracked up to be.
Making your own decisions just means you have to know if you should fix the interest on your mortgage or let it fluctuate, whether you should sell your car or keep repairing it and if it’ll be enough with just a sweater or if you should take a precautionary jacket as well. Growing up is realizing if you never leave when it’s the most fun to go home and go to bed, you’ll be too tired to go to work, and if you don’t go to work you’ll get fired, and if you get fired you won’t be able to pay your mortgage, and if you don’t pay your mortgage you’ll be homeless and nothing good can come out of that. Plus there’s the plumbing. No one ever tells you about the plumbing.
There’s one thing with adulthood that’s just as sweet as it seems, though: ice cream for dinner. Or candy for dinner. Or dessert for dinner. Basically, the whole concept of replacing one of your main meals every once in a while with something completely sugary and fattening and unhealthy just because you can, because there’s no one who can tell you otherwise. Because YOU are the boss now.
Annette and I have a great tradition (well, we just started it last year, but don’t they say two’s a habit?). Whenever we go shopping at the Mall of Georgia, our reward after (yes, you get rewards for shopping because you walk a lot and invest a lot of money in lace) is dinner at Krispy Kreme. This is almost a big of reason for going to the mall as shopping. By the time we get to the doughnut place, we’re frantic with excitement.
“Do you think a dozen is enough?”
“I don’t know, we are taking some home too …”
Although I’ve always said my favorites are, in the given order: chocolate glazed, lemon filled and raspberry filled, these doughnut dinners have made me discover that nothing beats a plain sugar glazed doughnut straight from the belt. (Or four.) Like Annette puts it: it’s like biting into a cloud. A sweet, sugary cloud that says “I’m an adult and I do what I want”. So kids, if you’re reading, know this: there will come a day when you’re old and leave parties at eleven at the latest and have to pay heavy mortgage and unclog the nasty shower drain all by yourselves, but that’ll also be the day when you can have a dozen sugar glazed doughnuts for dinner.