Insubordinate...and churlish.

I was sitting at my desk, minding my own business, when my dog started barking like an asshole. Three loud knocks on the door, and she's acting like someone is trying to cut my throat out, so I figure it must be the UPS guy.

And it was.

AND HE HAD A MRS. PRINDABLES DELIVERY FOR ME. MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

My very bestest friend in the world bought me the thing I had been coveting the longest: She bought me a Mrs. Prindables apple.

Check it:

Look at that sexy mother fucker. The photo is dark, but the apple is gorgeous, and oh my god, eating a piece was like tossing the salad of the lord hisownself. Because holy shit. It was fucking DELICIOUS.

Sidenote: I am fully aware that this is far from vegan. I know. I KNOW. But two things are important to note here:

Number one, it's a Mrs. Prindables apple, and even the most staunch of people can forget their morality and dietary restrictions to indulge in something they've been coveting for over 25 years;

Number two, go fuck yourself.

I must describe to you what was as close to a near death, religious, out of body experience as I will probably ever have.

I unwrapped the apple and marveled at its heft, because it's a very solid thing. There is no banana for scale here, but that apple is easily half the size of my head. According to the box, it weighs three pounds. That's ALL apple. I giggled to myself in disbelief, because I was unwrapping a fuckin' Mrs. Prindables. I never thought I would. As the last bit of cellophane peeled off, I laughed again, and made some kind of squealing noise. There's no approximation for it.

I brought it to the table, picked my most beautiful knife, and, after about ten minutes of debating if I even wanted to ruin the beauty, I did. I sliced into it, and it was magical. The chocolate flaked off into little miracle sized pieces, and the apple smell hit me immediately, and how do things like this happen?

I sliced the half into four gorgeous slices, and I really did just stare at them for a couple of minutes. They were gorgeous. The bright green of the apple, the inviting warmth of the golden caramel, the chocolate layer, and the fat stripes of white and milk chocolate hugging my treat seemed unreal. At least, unreal in my kitchen.

I almost didn't want to eat it. I went through a thousand arguments in my head. What if it's gross? This isn't vegan, Drea, and what if it's gross? What if  it's good, but not that good? What if it's just an apple covered in stuff and it tastes a little bit like you need to go to the dentist tomorrow?

I took a bite.

I ate the rest of the slice. With my eyes closed.

Savoring.

When I got married, there was a small moment when the world stopped, and it hung in place for a microsecond, and all of it belonged to me. And I don't mean my big showy wedding, I mean my legal marriage. At the DMV, in a plain dress, with all of the hubub of dozens of impatient people buzzing behind me. I remember signing the paper, and in the moment between signing and squeezing my husband's hand, physics weren't real, and it was just us, and that was all that mattered.

I love my husband a lot, but that moment was magnified by at least ten fold when I ate that apple slice. Just me, my apple slice, and my mouth orgasm, alone in a universe without rules or limits.

WHAT THE FUCK.

The secret to time travel is somewhere in the molecular structure of these apples, I fuckin' swear it is. Because nothing in the world is that pure and amazing.

I lovingly put the remainder of my apple in a ziploc bag, put it in the fridge, and had to immediately sit down and catch my breath.

This is not hyperbole, this is how the moments played out in my head. Like an edible melodrama.

Perhaps this seems silly to anybody reading it. It didn't feel silly to me. It was a wonderful gift, from my very best friend in the entire wide world.

 See? That's love, right there.

Wait until she sees what I bought her.