You know when it hits you that you absolutely, positively HAVE to have a certain treat? Like when you’ve had a really long, emotional week and you’re craving something both cold and sweet, and you think and think and think and finally decide, yeah! A Crack-In-the-Box oreo shake! I deserve this. Yum! And you drive through the most dreadful traffic to get there? And you’re so happy, because it’s just a little treat for the love of pete and it’s going to taste so good to have something with fat in it? And everything is going well and the planets are in alignment and the dreaded left-turn into the drive-thru is not so bad after all because the guys in both of the oncoming lanes actually stopped to let you turn because they knew, just KNEW that you deserved this $2.00 worth of deliciousness? And you get to the speaker, and it’s great because there weren’t a gazillion people ahead of you? And you order? And they say, “sorry, ma’am, we have no shakes. The shake machine is down?” And then you sputter and cry and say never mind? And then you realize that there is someone ahead of you waiting for a humongous order? And the designers of the drive-thru didn’t leave enough room for angry people without shakes to get around? And you look in your rearview mirror and discover that the heretofore empty drive-thru is now backed up with about six cars? So you can’t back out? And you have to sit while the car ahead of you waits for its meal? And waits? And then checks the order two or three times? Then adjusts her rearview mirror and puts on her lipstick? Before she pulls forward? So you wait? Empty-handed and milkshake free?

That kind of day.