08 May 2008

July 8th. It will be 19 years.

At the end of a crazy day of work, Tara called to debate with herself out loud, with me listening over the phone, about what to make for dinner. Together we decided on pizza for tonight and tacos for tomorrow, since both evenings require quick and easy dinners. Finally escaping the office, I pull into Papa Murphy’s, rush through the door and… Then it happened. I felt the urge to buy a container of chocolate chip cookie dough. I’ve never before bought cookie dough at Papa Murphy’s before.

The lone customer, I call out, “Two pizzas for Tara,” to the guy behind the counter.

As he’s grabbing my pizzas, he calls back “That’ll be $23.70.” (or something like that)

“Did you get my cookie dough?”

“Yes, she preordered that too.”

“Wow, we’ve been married to long. We didn’t even talk about the cookie dough. We’ve never ordered cookie dough before. But we’re both thinking: ‘cookie dough’.”

“That must be a nice feeling: knowing that someone else is thinking just like you”

“Yeah, it is. It really is.”

Of one mind. At least when it comes to cookie dough. That’s a nice feeling.

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