Finally, Big Mac Day is here. I waited so long, yet I know when I hold that delicious burger in my hands it will cease to exist in less than 5 minutes. Less than 10 bites.
I won’t put it down until it is gone.
I have tried to prolong the bliss by sipping a drink or eating some fries. But both of these interrupt the amazing taste in my mouth and it isn’t worth it. Later, I will eat the fries and drink the coke slowly while I mourn the last bite of my Big Mac and check a calendar for when the next Friday the 13th will be.
Then I’ll start planning for it.
Jon, my son-in-law, also loves Big Macs. He might eat TWO on a Friday the 13th. Last year, after his son was born, we decided we deserved a Big Mac. It wasn’t even a Friday. Or the 13th. We cheated, but having that little baby in our world was worthy of celebration.
No visions of sugar plums were dancing in my head on Big Mac Eve. Instead, the jingle: two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions on a sesame seed bun.
Five more hours…
P.S. 3 pm. Big Mac Hangover. Best one yet.