A Little Debbie’s Day

Every have one of those days filled with little annoyances? At some point all you want to do is bury yourself in comfort food. Sunday was one of those days for me.

My kid had one of those rude, dad- you – are -so-stupid tones from the moment he woke up, at noon.

Flat tire.

Too many stores and too many slow lines. One woman kept the line waiting as she agonizingly slowly counted out her change to pay a small grocery bill.

At another store we all waited and waited in the express lane–I had one item–while the 16 year old cashier kept calling for someone 21 or older to come and ring up a bottle of wine.

Traffic was slow.

It was 20 degrees out.

One of those days.

I entered my last store cold, tired and hungry. Trepidation filled my every fiber as I entered another florescent lit layer of hell.

Then rising like a magnificent mountain of all that is good, directly ahead of me  it stood. A huge display of assorted Little Debbie cakes and cookies. It was all I could do to summon the self-control to not fill my cart with boxes of Oatmeal Creme pies and Fudge Rounds. An image jumped into my mind of me on my couch, warm,  consuming a box of each and letting the sugar induced coma take me to a better place.

I was able to just buy what I needed and go home. But the dream lives on.



About 48facets
What you read is what you get.

One Response to A Little Debbie’s Day

  1. Pax Romano says:

    In these parts we call ’em, “Tastykake Days”


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