Last night after the show, a group of us went to Mrs. Johnson's because it's right around the corner from the theater. (Okay, well, we didn't go because it's right around the corner from the theater; we went to Mrs. Johnson's because we wanted donuts, whatever.)
I couldn't decide whether to get 1 or 2, because, really, 1 donut is plenty, and I could be an adult for once in my life; but they're only 55 cents and, c'mon, 1 donut?? who ever has 1 donut? So I ordered 2. But -- and this is the great thing about Mrs. Johnson's and I don't know why it's always a surprise because it happens every single time, but it is -- no matter how many donuts you order, they always put them in the bag or the box, hand it to you, and then hand you 1 extra one. Just so you have one to hold and touch. And scarf down while you're waiting for your change.
There must have been some kind of divine intervention, because I managed to save one of them for breakfast this morning. They say your body will tell you what it needs, and my body told me it needs a donut.