Blessed are the consumers of fast food

This morning I drove Aisling to her piano lesson and then took myself (along with a stack of Shakespeare books so that I could finalize my class notes for tomorrow) to the McDonald's out at the interstate. I really love it that all their soft drinks are $1 and I ordered a Diet Coke in a cup big enough to wash a Dalmation in.

I hadn't yet had breakfast (and the lesson was at noon, just to give you an idea of how hungry I was), so I sifted through the contents of my little change purse and was delighted to find that I had enough cash to buy a small order of french fries. I placed my order and started assembling a fist full of coins.

When it was my turn to pullup next to Window #1, I held out my handful of change, but the cashier inside shook her head and smiled at me. "The lady in the car ahead of you paid for your order," she said.

I had a sudden urge to just burst into tears. At a time when you turn on the news (which, let's be frank, I do at least ten thousand times per day) only to hear that it is mostly bad, the simple act of someone's anonymously buying my fries and soda pop really touched me.

So thank you, unknown lady in the white Buick Regal. The french fries were crisp and perfectly salty and the Diet Coke was icy and refreshing. I spent a very pleasant hour sitting there in the sunshine with my Macbeth notes and a grateful heart for the small blessings that come my way.