On donuts, and surprises

So, say your dog got sick and couldn't stay inside for fear of damaging the floors. You might have just spent three hours at the vet, and feel a little cooped up. So you and your housemate Brenna might grab a friend and the dog and drive to the base of Mt. Hood, where you might sneak onto a golf course at 1 a.m. and curl up in twelve blankets and a pair of socks, and watch the Perseids meteor shower peak over the southeastern mountain range.

If you're really pure of heart, the noise of the sprinklers being turned on would rouse you before you had to deal with any unfortunate questions, and you would drive back towards your metropolis at 4:30 in the morning.

And if you did all that, well. As reward, a certain donut shop would most certainly catch your eye, and so you would find yourself at Joe's Donut Shop, in the tiny burg of Sandy, Oregon. Consider yourself lucky, you donut-eater, you, because Joe's opens at 4 a.m. and has the best damn donuts this side of your childhood county fair's octogenarian donut-frier's.

I would make a note of it and plan on it again next year.