I woke up really disappointed that today was only Thursday and not Friday. This week has been long--long, hot, and sweaty--and I am very, very, very ready for it to end.
As I neared the freeway entrance to go to work, I decided to change routes and hop on the highway instead. The line at the metered light was way too long and I can't sit still long enough to want to wait. I'd rather go the long way and keep moving than the fast way and idle. Anyway, as I wove through the back streets, grumbling to myself about what a crappy Thursday this particular Thursday was already promising to be, I saw something truly amazing:
I saw a man eating a popsicle. At 7:34 in the morning.
The meal surprised me and caused me to laugh. This man was obviously on his way to work: he was dressed in a shirt and tie, headed toward the freeway. Yet, even though he was a professional en route to do professional things, his breakfast was far from the fare one would expect.
It caused me to think about how we work and toil and commute and stress and live our lives a certain way. And how this man was a genius for feeding his soul more than his stomach with something so unsubstantial and yet so completely satisfying as a solid liquid on a stick.
And then I thought that if only I had had a popsicle for breakfast, too, I might not be so grumpy.