Pay it forward

I had a hair appointment after work today. On my way, I said to myself, "Self, you've been a responsible eater here lately. You've even worked out. And hey, you know what? You've got a Chick-fil-A gift card left over from Christmas. Why don't you treat yourself to a milkshake?"

To which I replied, "Self, you're a smart girl. I deserve a mid-week treat."

"Darned right you do," I said.

"You think anyone will think I'm crazy for talking to myself?"

I scoffed in response. "Pfft. No. Just, y'know, keep your car windows rolled up just in case."

After my lively discussion, I turned into the Chick-fil-A that was just a few miles from my hairdresser. Yes, and boy howdy, I could taste that vanilla milkshake already. No, not a large. Just a small. Sure, it's still half a million calories, but there's whipped cream. Oh, and a cherry. Yes indeed.

I waited my turn in the drive-thru behind a blue Kia Sorento. Puttering up to the window to surrender my payment, the manager asked me a question that caught me off-guard: "Did you know the lady in front of you?"

Uh... "No?"

"Well, she paid for your milkshake."

The moral of this story, my friends, is such acts must be paid forward. I paid it forward to my hairdresser this afternoon in the form of a little extra tip. Also, that was a sheer and undisputed sign from God that I was allowed to indulge in a vanilla milkshake today.

And boy, how sweet it was.