I love donuts. I could eat a dozen a day. I love them the way a deranged maniac loves evil plots (meaning my heart fills with the laugh of a lunatic when I eat a good one). Since I don’t eat dairy or eggs, I don’t have regular access to these tasty treats. I either have to bake them myself or take a special trip to a veg-friendly donut shop. The rarity of this only fuels my obsession.
There’s nothing not to love about a donut. Sugar- check. Fat- check. Carbs- check. They’re like little loops of happiness. I imagine that people who work in donut shops know a lot about life. They know love is fleeting but frequent. They know you should enjoy a good thing when you have it. They know you can make your own joy.
If I could live in a giant donut, I would. But I wouldn’t live there long, because I’d eat it.