Almost there. The crossroad is up ahead.
Will I? Won’t I?
“Ugh. …”
I throw on my car’s directional indicator and hang a right into the gas station, where I will throw my New Year’s resolution — which I toasted with a healthy smoothy in a silly glass picked out by my children — out the window.
“Yes, I guess I will.”
It may have seemed like a last-minute decision to the motorist behind me, but I had been considering stopping at this particular convenience location since I drove past it a half hour earlier.
I was on the edge then: It was well past noon and I hadn’t yet eaten. It may be well past dinner before I get home to a proper meal. Perhaps a little caffeine would hold me over.
I certainly didn’t need the kind of fuel I craved, which I had successfully avoided earlier only because I knew I’d be turning around and going back in short order.
Judging by the service apron, with the gas pumps all vacant and the parking spaces around the store completely occupied, I had the feeling I was not alone in my gut reaction.
But I kinda knew this place. Not particularly well, yet I’ve been here before. It’s not fancy, but it has some bells and whistles. The coffee is good, and once you navigate past shelves packed with pared-down versions of grocery store staples (at elevated prices), and wire racks filled with single-serve, cellophane-wrapped commercial bakery snacks was a window where a real, live person made salads and hot and cold sandwiches to order.
There were even a few tables that were mostly taken with people waiting on morsels.
I didn’t need much, I thought.
I could find something, anything, to grab and just go that I might be able to masquerade as healthy.
I stood in front of the coffee maker to give myself time to consider the options while I worked on caffeine. I poked my finger at the screen to make it come to life and perused the options: Espresso … Cappuccino … Latte?
I didn’t want anything that fancy.
A little panic creeps in when I don’t see the option of plain coffee but I remember what a person should do in just this situation, and begin to relax. I selected a size for my beverage and its coordinating cup from an upside-down stack, plunking the thing down over the coffee maker’s spillway before I selected ”Americano” and then “Brew.”
A fragrant and foamy liquid spilled forth into the cup, I can now turn my attention back to this mid-afternoon perk up still has me feeling peckish.
A hard roll would do. Perhaps a muffin leftover from the morning commute would be just as nice. Not a whole sandwich.
It didn’t have to be an eight-count package of doughnuts … the kind with the freakishly uniformed-shaped crumbs on top, which also had a sort of Franken-Flavor, cinnamon, and sugar was actually a hybrid berry.
But there it was -- a blue and white box of crumb-topped ring cakes … floating out as if visiting from someone else's memory -- just to the left of where the coffee cup lids were stacked.
In a minute, the box would be at the cashier’s counter next to my coffee. And then on the seat beside me in the car.
Will I have the willpower to eat just one? Save the rest for my resolve and the teenagers who still possess a youthful metabolism.
It's possible.
I'll just need to stop in half a mile (just before the pizza shop) and put the box in the trunk.
