Dear Ben and Jerry’s Late Night Snack,
Tonight, I walked home from the grocery store in the rain — droplets beading up on my green onions, trailing down the shrink wrapped plastic covering my ground beef. It was the preverbal pickle on my crap sandwich of a day — the maple syrup on my stack of poopcakes if you will.
After almost being plowed down by an emaciated hipster with a faux-mullet and cutoffs that would make Jessica Simpson blush on a fixie; stepping on the fresh, warm carcass of what I think was a squirrel after a flawless parallel park; my professor adding another member to my group project, coming home to a fridge and cabinets that make me ponder meal combinations like refried beans with sticky rice and spaghetti sauce, week-old BBQ chicken thigh with a Yuengling or maybe a bowl of cereal and some frozen peas, all of this on top of papers, more papers and enough group projects to make any reasonable individual scream into their backpack, it was a day alright, Ice Cream.
And Ice Cream, I know that I’ve used my quota of em dashes, but Ice Cream I’m going to use another — finding that I bought light sour cream.
Ice Cream, it was enough to make a girl call it a night at 8:30PM, crawl under the covers and watch that damn a capella competition show on the NBC.
But then I found you in the freezer. Salty caramel? Fudge covered… what are these potato chip nuggets? Yes, fudge covered potato chip nuggets? All snuggled inside vanilla bean ice cream, these are the things that can rejuvenate a person; these are the things that can give one the strength to go back to Kroger, walk up to Ronisha with a receipt and say “I did not mean to buy this kind of sour cream.”
Thank you Ice Cream, thank you. I will forge on.
Sincerely,
Hannah
