Today I continued languishing in the pages of "The Scarlet Letter" by Nathaniel Hawthorn. I was sitting in a car turned off with all the doors open in 105degree (at least) weather, while my dad worked on the boat trailer. It was hot. I barely did anything and I was still had sweat literally rolling down and dripping off of me. It was intriguing, yet disgusting.
Irrelevant.
As I was driving (yes, me! Driving!) my dad and myself home, he suggested we stop by Wendy's for a frosty. My heart fluttered and leaped at the prospect. I pulled up, ordered our frosties, and gently set mine down in the cup holder by the driver's seat.
Because I am a young and rather inexperienced driver, I have not yet learned how to drive with one hand for more than a few seconds, let alone eat/drink while driving. I was forced to wait until I turned off the car in the driveway of my house.
I turned off the car, unbuckled my seat belt, sat for a moment, opened my spoon, stuck my spoon into the cup, and pulled out a wonderful spoonful of chocolate heaven.
It was definitely the best frosty I've ever had.
Cold and refreshing and wonderful. It tasted so much better having had had to wait the extra 15 minutes than if I'd lurched into it the moment they handed it to me. It was heaven in a cup. It felt like it was the best $2 (give or take) my dad's ever spent for me in my life.
Now, having said all this mush, what do I really mean?
True love waits.
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