My fingers feel the almost painful cold as I dig through the chest freezer in the garage. I'm careful to try not to start an avalanche of frozen food, carefully jigsaw-stacked to fit as much as we can- roasts and chicken, mixed fruit and frozen pizza wedged in so tightly I can barely move them aside to get to what I'm looking for.
I'm pulling out ground beef to thaw for supper sometime this week, and that's when I see it.
Caramel Delight Girl Scout Cookie Ice Cream.
I gasp and quickly recover the container. I didn't know it was in here, and being that I'm typically the one putting groceries away, it's surprising.
And all at once, my fingers don't feel quite so cold and I smile because I know my husband loves me.
The ice cream told me so.