:: Beer Cans and Sweet Potatoes ::

These are the kinds of things that bring me endless joy.

This morning I was walking to school engaged in a very serious debate with myself over whether I should stop at Starbucks on my way. Stopping for a latte would require me to remove one ungloved hand from my warm, cozy, fleece-lined pockets, exposing my digits to the frosty weather. However, my exposed digits would be wrapped around a steamy cup of warm frothy goodness. Would the warm cup cancel out the cold air? Would the outsides of my hand get cold while the inside stayed warm? Could that cause any sort of skin or nerve damage?

I'm giving this a good hard think and all the while I'm sort of half-noticing the things around me: beer can, beer can, empty cigarette package, squished packet with red stuff oozing out that I'm guessing is ketchup or barbecue sauce, beer can, beer can, sweet potato, plastic cup, beer can.

I stop. I look down at the white-tipped grass and the wet mess of rotting leaves and yes, there it is, indeed I was right the first time: a big, still-in-tact sweet potato. All by itself. No explanation nearby. No other produce.

I laughed right out loud and have continued to chuckle about it all through the day.

I got the latte, by the way, and my hand seems fine.