For Here and To Go

I am basking in the afterglow of my birthday yesterday, and I am having breakfast at my favorite mountain town.  I ordered my two favorites – longjohn with chocolate frosting and white cream filling.  (Two of those, thank you.)

Oh, and sneak in a sugar-raised donut.  (One of those.)

“For here or to go?”

“For here, thank you.”

Except then they put it on a plate instead of in a bag or a box.  And my favorites wouldn’t all fit on a plate, so now I have two plates of donuts in front of me. The optics aren’t great.

So I put one plate across from me, like that person had just gone to the bathroom or will be joining me shortly.

(I am here entirely alone.)

And these are precisely the kind of shenanigans that I am absolutely here for now that I am forty-six.