Bacon Maple Waffles are the Answer

I Forget the Question

It all began at a psychic fair.

I feel like that statement deserves a backstory. I love my work. Don’t ever let anyone tell you that all writing research has to be boring. Some of it certainly can be. But so far, I’ve researched a great many interesting topics. If I’m bored learning about it, I’m pretty sure no one is going to want to read what I’m writing.

Which is how I landed myself in the middle of a psychic fair. I was honestly picturing something a little more flamboyant, a little less like a standard daytime networking event. No, I wasn’t expecting a gypsy caravan or a carnival act, but I was a little surprised by how workaday it all seemed.

This is why research is so important. I went to check it out — not only for the sake of accuracy but also to rid myself of any preconceived notions. I needed the story I’m writing to be grounded in reality even though it’s entirely fictional. What else was I to do but roll up to a psychic fair?

It was honestly fantastic. The room was a little cramped for my taste, but the readings were professional. And uncannily accurate. Tarot cards, palm reading, numerology, astrology, gemstones, and even a medium made my list. It was fascinating, and I got a better handle on what I needed to write. I left satisfied with my day of work, but I was ravenous. Coffee for breakfast wasn’t exactly working for me.

Driving around looking for eats brought me to a cute coffee shop with bacon maple waffles. The menu was much more varied, but once I saw the waffles, there was no need to consider the alternatives. I’m not sure what the question is, but I’m pretty sure bacon maple waffles are the answer.

Why?

They made me happy. They tasted delicious. Does it have to be any more complicated than that?

Sometimes, we just need a little indulgence in our lives. An affordable plate of yummy waffles was what worked for me. I paired it with coffee, snagged a table at an arguably pretentious table island (note to management: tables labeled as “for couples only” are offensive to singles everywhere who might want to sit at a regular table rather than perching precariously on a stool in a shared space), and enjoyed the waffles.

I didn’t feel guilty for the indulgence. I didn’t worry about carbs or calories or my weight. I didn’t run my budget through my head to see if I could afford this little treat. I didn’t try to take them to-go, to rush the pleasure by trying to fit it in while doing a million other things. I just enjoyed them.

Every. Single. Bite.

Maybe there never was a question. Maybe I just needed to say that sometimes we deserve to really treat ourselves, to enjoy something for the sake of enjoyment alone. I deserve it. So do you.

So, treat yourself to bacon maple waffles. Or whatever makes your heart happy. Just do it.