Sweet and Sour

What I’ll miss: The Doughnut Plant
I went for the first time in the middle of July, and I’ve been four or five times since. The cheapest donut is $2.25, but it’s not any old donut. It’s dessert, and for dessert that’s reasonable. Go. Go more than once. Try a few different donuts. Share between friends if you actually do that sort of thing. But really: who shares anymore? Get your own dang donuts. I want the coconut and the carrot cake and the tres leches and everything else. And yes, I prefer that spelling of donut. And when I describe these donuts to people, I love seeing their eyes widen and their tongues dripping with drool,¬†hanging from their mouths. You have to go. Get thee to Grand Street and consume the most heavenly donuts this side of heaven.

What I won’t miss: My propensity for depression
Stupid thing reared its ugly head here. Its ugly head was very ugly. I hated having it around. Its ugliness. I hated myself and how ugly I felt. I hated how it kept making me focus on everything ugly and it switched to ugly lenses in my eyes and everything I saw had an ugly cloud over it, an ugly, sticky film on it. Especially everything that had to do with myself.

I got it under control, though. That ain’t ugly.