This month . . . .
Like anyone with a grain of sense, I like ice cream. Its one of the reasons I hang around on this planet. It gives me pleasure in its taste, texture, how cool it feels on my tongue, the luxuriousness of the frozen cream. I could go on and on.
Ice cream every day is great. Chocolate ice cream, every day. No, wait. Vanilla . . . yes, vanilla. Every live-long day. Hang on! I can have lots of different flavors. How about coffee? Cookies and cream? Something different every day. But not different; always ice cream.
Until, not suddenly but undeniably, I no longer want a bowl of ice cream. Of course this cant be true. I must be mistaken. Standing for a while in the frozen confection aisle, nothing. Not in any flavor, not with any topping. The eight oclock craving for something cold and sweet is gone.