I gave myself a treat the other morning at Dunkin Donut’s; I ordered a jelly donut with my coffee. It’s something I’d like to do every day but would look like a blimp if I did. It takes all my willpower, but I space out my jelly donut binges.
Anyhow, this particular jelly donut was covered with a layer of powdered sugar. Some Dunkin Donut Shops use granular sugar or go light on the powder, but this place marches their jelly donuts through a blizzard of sugar. I sat at a table, took the snowball out of the bag and carefully placed it on a napkin. Sugar flakes flew into the air; I was surrounded as though in a Nor’easter snowstorm. I could barely see across the room. Every bite sent a new snow squall into the atmosphere. The napkin, the table, my pants and shirt, the seat and the floor were speckled in a layer of snowflakes. I looked like Pigpen, the character in Peanuts who lives in a cloud of dust. Anyone seeing me would be tempted to ask the manager, “Why do you allow a slob like that in this place?”
It doesn’t bother me, those dirty looks from strangers. I deserve the “Pig-Pen” comparison: I look as unkempt as he does, and even worse. I look like a one year old when I get up from the table. One that grabbed a spoon out of his mother’s hand and sprayed pablum all over himself and his surroundings. Most people come out of a restaurant carrying their leftovers in a doggy bag. Not me! I don’t need the bag. I transport my leftovers on my shirt, pants and shoes. I’m saving the eco system from Styrofoam pollution.
I’m not sure exactly when I became a food and drink slob. I know there was a time when I looked presentable in public. But for years now, I’ve sported coffee, mustard, spaghetti sauce, ketchup and wine stains on my clothes. I sloshed so much coffee on myself, that for a while I wore beige to hide the stains. I gave that up and now face the world just as I am – a shirt stained old coot that is well along the return trip to babyhood – It’s where I started and it’s where I’ll end up. It’s just taken me a lifetime to make the round trip.
Comments, complaints? Send to firstname.lastname@example.org.