Scorching hot chocolate



I like to think I’m a smart person who makes good life choices, but there’s considerable evidence to the contrary every time I go to Tim Hortons. I’m not a regular and not really a coffee drinker, but when I do go, I usually order a hot chocolate. And when I do, I burn my tongue. Not sometimes. Not usually. Every time.

Why do I have no control, no ability to hold myself back? I know I’ll burn my tongue, I know I should let it cool a little first, or ask for it with extra milk. But do I? No, I say “Hey, maybe this will be the time it’s not so hot!” Spoiler: it’s always that hot. I always burn my tongue. I always curse my impatience for the subsequent week.

I say afterwards that it was dumb of me, that I should know better, and that I’ll remember next time. And I do remember next time, but it’s been a few months and hey, maybe I’ll chance it. Maybe this time it’ll be cool enough to drink right away.

Image: Amara Gelaude/The Cascade

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