Donuts!

While waiting in the lobby of the 6th floor in one of the towers I was assigned to today, something magical happened. A man showed up, out of the ether, with a very large clear plastic storage box.

Full of donuts.

A little history about me, before I proceed. I am a slave to donuts. They are my biggest food related weakness. I got fat because of donuts. And pizza. And beer. And a slothful lifestyle. And probably several other things, but donuts are really high on the list of fattening agents I indulged in without mercy or trepidation. I love donuts. If you want to convince me to do something terrible, a box of donuts is a really strong way to open that door.

So when this crate of donuts, full to the brim of delicious and serendipitous joy, entered my life, the pain went away. The pain and frustration of the Giants fucking up an easy win and causing me to sleep angrily wormed its way into my morning, and talking about it with coworkers only hastened my inner sports turmoil to a simmering, under the surface rage, that could have exploded.

But then donuts.

Then this trough of glazed, frosted, filled, and sprinkled goodness found its way to a counter close to me! I looked at it longingly. I feared that they were special donuts that I didn't have a high enough clearance for. I started to salivate like a dog. The wonderful person, this khaki clad angel man, said,"Hey, if you guys want some donuts, help yourselves."

I rejoiced inside. My brain became a Mardi Gras parade of joyous rapture! I GET DONUTS! I tried to keep it together. "Thanks, man," I said, keeping my shit together. Coolly, or as coolly as a donut fiend can, I strode over to the box. It was so full. It was so full of donuts that I couldn't believe it. All kinds of donuts! Glazed, frosted, filled, sprinkled, some combination of those traits. And I get to devour as many of them as I can fit into my donut starved food hole.

My coworker opened the box first, I was holding on to my dignity with all the strength I could muster, so I forced myself to not sprint over there and attack it like the Tasmanian Devil. I wanted to lay siege upon the donut treasure chest with the force of 1000 armies. So I went second.

And then my turn at the gates of donut Nirvana arose, and I took my prize. I grabbed a donut, chocolate glazed, and while I held it, I eyed it like the apex predator I am. And I attacked. I took a very large bite. And I took another. And as I ate, I realized.

These are day old donuts. Rejected donuts, in a clear crate for whatever sucker would dare defile themselves with less than perfect confections. I am that sucker. I didn't give a single fuck. I was in a donut fueled bliss. I understood that I was eating the breakfast treat version of the residents of the Island of Misfit Toys, and I stopped caring as soon as those donuts entered my eye line.

They were there for the rest of the day. By the time I left, about 4 hours later, I had eaten 5 donuts. I am only moderately ashamed of this. But the reason I am ashamed is not for the reasons you might think. I am ashamed that I was not able to eat MORE! I wanted to do nothing but bury my face in that donut trough like a piggy. But I couldn't. And my wasteful ways are shameful.

Maybe there will be more tomorrow! Maybe I can get another donut fix! Probably not, but the thought of it is enough for now.

SD