Give Me a Cookie, and I'm Gonna Want Some Milk

Today, I was my own worst enemy: I wanted a lunch, something not too heavy, and not too complicated. I know: a grilled cheese! With childlike delight, I opened the pantry, toasted some bread and laid out the garnishes I would need to zest up my cheese and bread. And just as soon as my toast popped out of the toaster, I was biting into my crunchy, yet buttery gooey-cheesed sandwich. Yum, this was exactly what I needed, just like mom used to make when I was a girl, usually on an autumn afternoon after school with a mug of hot chocolate. Mmm, hot chocolate . . .

Wait a second.

All of a sudden, this tasty sandwich felt deprived of some pizzaz. I got up from my very comfy stool, leaving my warm sandwich to cool, to check to see if we had any packets of HC. We did, good! But who wants to wait for water to boil, that'll take like 3 minutes; eff that. So I nuke the water, open the packets and mix my mud water around until it starts to resemble that childhood drink mom made. By this time, my sandwich was getting cold, and the chocolate needed marshmallows. Sigh! So, I get up (yet again) and begrudgingly cater to myself the marshmallows I need; then proceed to pop both the sandwich and hot chocolate in the microwave.

What ever happened to instant gratification?

After 45 seconds of painstaking agony, I finally retrieved my hot meal and set in front of my seat. We meet again at last. I took a highly anticipated bite and washed it down with the warm chocolate, and all became right in the world again. I ahhhed, looked out at the warm afternoon and smiled at the distant memory.

Isn't it funny how a filled tummy provides so much clarity? I think I'll call my mom tonight and thank her for all those uninteruppted grilled cheese sessions.