I was running a few errands to day, picking up theHubs’ father’s day dinner of pizza-goodness, and decided to make a pit stop at Dunkin Donuts. I went in and was disappointed they didn’t have his favourites (the manager’s special – peanut crusted donuts), so I got him 2 chocolate glazed ones.
And it crossed my mind.
He doesn’t know I was stopping at DD.
He doesn’t know about the chocolatey deliciousness that is sitting in a brown paper bag on my passengers seat.
Before I pulled out of the parking lot I stared down the bag, half contemplating throwing it in the garbage. I picked up the bag, looked at it, folded the top down and put it back on the seat.
I knew the points on that bad boy. 7 glorious points of chocolatey cakey goodness. 7 points. I barely had enough for my pizza. And I dipped into my weeklies already on Saturday, so I was trying to be good.
I left the parking lot feeling jubilation. Which, in my opinion, is much better than the heartburn I would’ve suffered for the 30 minute ride home.
And I got on the highway and I swear, the damn bag talked to me. I ignored it. Turned the radio up.
I pulled into the driveway, 2 donuts still in the bag.
Not tonight, Dunkin Donuts. Not tonight.
chelleyschoe 1. DD 0.