I got a milkshake at McDonald’s a few days ago, but didn’t finish it. So I put it in the freezer and forgot about it. Took it out just now and found that it had (unsurprisingly) thickened to the point where it was kinda dry, but not quite hard. Definitely not appetizing.
So, I added a bit of milk, mashed it with a spoon, and whatdya know: it was super tasty. Like, better than when I first drank it the other day. Just the perfect texture, which we all know to be extremely important in a milkshake. And that made me very happy and very satisfied.
What? Not everything I write has to be a deep dive into my innermost thoughts and feelings, coupled with metaphors that shed light on my psyche. Sometimes, a milkshake is just a milkshake. Nothing more, nothing less.
I suppose there’s something to be said for the fact that you can enjoy life without having to always look for deeper meanings. Maybe the symbolism comes not from the milkshake itself, but from my willingness to view it simply for what it is. Maybe it speaks to a momentary sense of inner peace that I am currently feeling, which has over-ridden my over-developed penchant for over-thinking every other thing. Maybe I don’t feel a need to see meaning in the milkshake, because for once I don’t feel the need to analyze myself.
And maybe it’s just a milkshake.
Now, about the nice cup of tea that followed it…
