I never splurge, but sometimes allow myself a small treat following some achievement or unpleasant task. One night, buying a few groceries after a long day at work, two trips to the library for last-minute homework and four loads at the laundromat, I noticed that a new flavor of ice cream was on sale. Chocolate Pudding Pie. I love chocolate pudding, especially in pie. I could sense I was starting to drool. It looked beautiful and sounded so good, I convinced myself to make the purchase.
It was all I could think about as I put away the food and folded the laundry. Finally, I could wait no longer and dished out a big bowlful. I noticed that the actual product didn't look like the picture I remembered on the box. This is common, I know, but there was a huge difference here. On the box at the store, the pudding flowed in deep, luxurious swirls throughout the mix, with large and exciting chunks of pie crust protruding everywhere. In my bowl, there were a few tiny dark specks and an occasional clump of some yellow substance that made me wonder if my kitchen light was malfunctioning.
I took a closer look at the box and closed my eyes in disgust and overwhelming disappointment. I'm divorced, I can't see my kids as often as I want, my car isn't running, I'm having major career upheaval, and I follow the Arizona Cardinals – I know something about disappointment. But this was awful, a weight I could not lift, a slight I could not endure.
Somehow, out of a frozen shelf full of the good stuff, I managed to select a box of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough. If it wasn't for Mint Chocolate Chip, Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough would be the worst ice cream of all. Raw cookies just do not appeal to me, and they certainly don't belong in the same box as ice cream. I ate it, sure, but it was bitter to my taste and a canker on my soul. I thought a second bowl might help, but, apparently, it didn't.
