This morning I couldn't sleep. I woke up at 3:20 a.m. and never went back to sleep.
At 5:00 I gave up and put my tennis shoes on. It was still dark, but the weather was warm. My headphones buzzed with the sound of the Guermantes Way, a French novel I'm trying to finish.
After about 6 blocks, the smell of warm fresh donuts wafted along Main Street.
The closer I got to the donut shop, the stronger the smell became.
Inside I could see the bakers, hard at work in the warm glow of the windows.
The scent of the fresh donuts was intoxicating.
The sign above the register said CASH ONLY.
Too bad I didn't have any money with me, because those donuts were calling to me......
When I was a kid, donuts were a thing. A Saturday morning donut run to the little donut place in Neosho was a frequent treat in my family. I have fond memories of the taste of Highland chocolate milk, strawberry filled glaze donuts and a little bag of donut holes I would eat on the drive home.
To my husband, donuts are not a thing. His family did not make a habit of Saturday morning donut runs. He doesn't see the appeal. He never craves a blueberry crueler or a long john, like I often do. We rarely visit the three donut shops within 2 miles of our house. Such. A Waste.
When I got to school, a student surprised me with a homemade brownie.
He must've known I had a craving for sugar early this morning.
What a great start to the day!
This is my 'slice of life' blog.
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This Little Class of Mine