I know that if you have been following my blog, you are hanging on the edge of your seat in anticipation if I found the ideal hot fudge sundae. If you will remember, it has been like searching for Waldo at these places that label themselves ice cream establishments. Back in my day – I sound like an old lady – I didn’t have to inquire if there was hot fudge because it was a staple. Sigh. Anyway, I found the treasure at the end of the rainbow.
I scoffed at the suggestion of this establishment because it seemed too easy, but I surrendered because I knew this would be my last resort. The exhaustion of the search was catching up with me. While I didn’t want to give in to this atrocity, I knew that the fight was leaving me. I might just have to acknowledge that my ideal hot fudge sundae died. Grief is heavy, friends, especially when it involves something so sacred.
The establishment is called “myself”. “Myself” was opened 58 years ago and is proficient in delivering the best of the best. If you haven’t caught on, “Myself” is really me. To be fair, I am at the stage of my life where if I can pay for someone to do it, I will. Case in point, this hot fudge dilemma. I know, if I want it done the way I want it, I must do it myself. While at Publix, I purchased Smucker’s Hot Fudge, vanilla ice cream, and a can of whipped cream.
That night I indulged in my delectable creation. The hot fudge was perfectly warmed to the temperature that slightly melted the ice cream. My taste buds rejoiced and I might have moaned a little as I ate it. Sometimes a girl has to take the bull by the horns and do it herself.
This has been a journey of self-discovery that allowed me to acknowledge that I am getting incredibly lazy, but hot fudge urges me to stay strong and fight for the right to have this perfectly curated treat. Trust me, my family is enjoying not hearing me passionately expressing my disappointment. It is a win-win for everyone.
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