After over a year of isolation and sacrifice battling a pandemic, the nation was finally rewarded with the welcome news:
Free doughnuts at Krispy Kreme.
Simply provide evidence of your vaccination and you can claim that tasty treasure.
I don’t want to overstate the report because they’re not offering delivery. You still have to get dressed, climb in your car and drive there, a clear breach of my shelter-in-place policy calling for no people, no parting and no pants.
No doubt you’re thinking this is just another example of the sarcasm often seen in this space, but although there is a measure of cynicism, I truly ache for a bite of that savory sample.
That’s because it’s been over a month since my wife decided we had to go on a strict diet after we packed on the pounds. So for weeks now, I’ve had no sweets, no starch and small portions. It’s what she says is a low-carb diet, but what I call prison food, a far more appropriate term for dull meals served during a lockdown.
What made that doughnut announcement so delicious is the fact that I was able to convince my wife to grant me that diet exception, provided, she insisted, it’s just a weekly practice.
So she agreed to pick up my doughnut on her way home from shopping.
When three hours passed and she still hadn’t returned, I decided to step away from the window, convinced I’d be apprised of her arrival when she walked in the door.
Turns out she had stopped to visit the grandkids and only arrived after I suffered almost five hours of painful deprivation.
Still, I was overjoyed to see her and showered her with kisses when she finally appeared.
That’s when she broke the news: “I gave your doughnut to the kids,” she proclaimed.
That was a crushing announcement. Not only was I robbed of that ethereal ecstasy, but I also had to demonstrate incredible restraint as I put on my pants, braved the outdoors, and held back a scream until I was safely out of earshot.
I didn’t want to throw a tantrum in front of her because I knew she wouldn’t consider such a display befitting the circumstance. There’s a fine line between what I would term dire, and what she calls pathetic.
So, out of respect for our conflicting views, I returned home trying my best to remain expressionless in an attempt to hide my frustration. But she was able to detect that I wasn’t myself, suggesting I possessed a demeanor she described as “glazed over.”
I bit my lip at the mention of the word “glazed.”
The good news is that a week has passed, I’m almost recovered, and buoyed by the fact that my wife was about to go shopping again. This time, the kids were away, so no chance of being diverted from her mission.
“Do you have proof of your vaccination?” I asked.
“I do,” she replied, promising she won’t forget my doughnut.
“I await your swift return,” I said, blowing infinite kisses as she left.
“Pathetic,” I heard her mutter as she got in her car.
Contact humor columnist Irv Erdos at IrvErdos@aol.com.
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