A story about hot chocolate

Last week I sent Scott out to the store to get us some hot chocolate. We had run out of our Ghiradelli mix and I was in the mood for a big cup of cocoa. He came back with a box of Swiss Miss packets. In his defense, I didn't actually specify which brand of hot chocolate I wanted, but assumed he would pick out something a little more...upscale. Anyway, I totally turned my nose up at him and scoffed, thinking to myself, "Hmmph! I can't believe he bought me Swiss Miss! My taste is much more refined than that!" I never did drink the hot chocolate. Not because I was protesting, but because I just never found time to sit down and enjoy it that evening.

Two nights ago, I was at my friend Jamie's house for a holiday party. She is known for her elaborate parties. She has great taste and always serves an impressive spread. I saw that she had prepared a thermos full of hot chocolate for us so I helped myself to a big cup. I can't pass up chocolate...like a moth to a flame. And it was delicious. Creamy, rich, but not too chocolatey. Just perfect. I must have drank 5 cups that night. This morning, I had a craving for Jamie's perfect hot chocolate, so I sent her a text asking what brand it was. I was prepared to drive all over town looking for this special cocoa.

She sent me a text back: "ha ha! Swiss Miss powder!"