The Beginning Of The End

Does anyone really enjoy being at the end of the line?

I went to the post office the other day at lunchtime to mail two packages. Big mistake. The line was out the door. There must have been some kind of mass boycott on emailing, texting and tweeting. I shrugged my shoulders and took my place at the end of the line. This became my position for my entire wait. So there I stood. Waiting. Two clunky packages under both arms. The official end of the line.

I was last in line for one reason only. I decided to grab lunch before I ran my errands. It was not even an enjoyable lunch. A sandwich and chips. The sandwich I made was from two heels (the only bread left in the bag). The chips were all I could salvage from the bottom of a nearly empty bag. They were really more chip sediment than actual chips.

This was fast becoming a day of being stuck with, or at, the end of things. After running my errands (and various other encounters with getting the end of something), I headed home. I decided I needed a pick-me-up, so I went to the freezer to get a slice of one of my ice cream rolls. I opened the box and noticed there was one slice left — the end.

My spirits lifted. I was filled with overwhelming joy. My luck had definitely changed. This was the one thing in life when getting the end of something was a good thing.

As far as ends go, nothing beats the end of an Uncle Harry’s Ice Cream Roll. I don’t say these words lightly. I’ll prove it. Over the next couple of weeks, my blog will feature the end of my ice cream rolls against the end of other things. By the time I’m done, you too will be a believer about the end of Uncle Harry’s Ice Cream Rolls.

Oh yeah. The end.

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