Oh, How I Love Thee

Oh, McDonald's. How I miss thee.

I miss your hot, salty strips of potatoes and your perfectly, over-iced Coca-Colas. The way your paper bag smells up my car as soon as the drive-thru worker hands it through my open window into my eagerly-waiting hands.

Sigh.

I miss you.

I know I hated you because we spent so much time together from October through February due to so much time on the road for basketball. I vowed to give you up, declared that I hated you for taking so much money from me and only giving me belly fat in return.

I said mean things about you, complained about your lame workers, and threw a piece of gum out the window while passing your parking lot.

I am sorry.

Really I am.

I miss you so much.

As luck would have it, the very first time ever that I've stuck to giving up something for lent, it was you that I gave up. I know we're not supposed to talk about fasting or what we give up, but I'm all about getting credit for my misery, you know.

Could you tone down the smell when I pass? You're making it quite difficult, more difficult every single day. While we're at it, stop pulling my car into your parking lot, daggone it.

Please wait for me. I will be back soon. For this, I promise you:

On Easter, at 11:00, when the breakfast menu switches over to lunch, I, your loyal, faithful follower, will be there. Waiting. In the drive thru. Ordering my plain cheeseburger Happy Meal with a Coke with light ice, please.

Just don't forget my two packs of ketchup, okiedokie?