When a storm knocks out your electricity, a person must attend to several things. Unless you intend to eat raw chicken and other such poisons, securing appropriate food often ranks near the top of the list.
I hadn’t been to the grocery store in a while, so I lacked an adequate supply of usable food. So, it’s off to the store, downed power lines be damned! Fortunately, I arrive relatively early and I secure some of the (by then) limited quantities of hot prepared food. And then I think to myself that I’d like a dessert. The bakery is located next to the prepared foods, so I don’t have to exert myself to get there.
Now I just have to find something I’d like to eat. Oooooooooooooh… they have cookie cakes. They never have those and I’m always wishing they did. And these are small enough that I can buy one for myself without being obscenely gluttonous for the next few days. I have to get one!
Oh, wait. I can’t. I approach the cookie cake table and see that these are for Father’s Day. My father died a few years ago and, while his was a merciful end, it seems off to be buying a Father’s Day cake.
Of course, I know what my father would say about this: “Buy the cake. Enjoy it.”
“Buy the cake.”
I don’t think…
“Why won’t you listen to me?”
It just seems…
“Don’t worry about me. Buy it.”
And so on, except that he would have never interrupted me in mid-sentence like that. Needless to say, I bought the cake. When I got it home, it was time to admire my purchase.
In the dark.
Out of necessity, the plastic Father’s Day decoration came off immediately and I was left enjoying a cookie cake that no longer bore any visible marks of the holiday, which in turn didn’t matter much because I couldn’t see it.
My father never made a habit of being wrong.