This afternoon, during a trip to the local grocery store, I discovered that sometimes your list may fail.

Guys, it is okay to go off script from time to time.

I pulled into the parking lot, and what did I see? Eight spaces near the door, open and waiting, beckoning me.

I accelerated and turned into a space midway through the parking lot.

My Rebuild foreman had decided: It’s sunny out. Now walk, Braxton.

I turned off the engine, got out of the car, and began my trek from Nebraska to an East Texas grocery store.

The sun was blazing, and my head felt it.

Then I remembered the hat.

I could see it hanging on the rack by my bedroom door.

Oh well, I was wearing sunscreen.

Braxton, the voice in my head said, do you mean the unopened bottle near your bathroom sink?

Gulp.

Well, yes.

Cough.

Let’s continue the story, please.

Finally, I entered the grocery store, and peace graced the top of my head.

First stop: tortillas and wraps.

Over in the aisle where my low-carb tortillas live, there was a voice. A whisper.

I ignored it and chose a zero-carbohydrate spinach wrap.

Just as I was placing it in my buggy, there it was again.

Yes, I said buggy. It is East Texas, for crying out loud, not Los Angeles.

Let’s move on.

As I placed the wrap in the buggy, I heard the whisper again, soft as a fair maiden in the dale.

Dairy.

Not today, DD.

Yes, DD.

The Dairy Demon.

I continued shopping.

Ah yes, deodorant.

It is not pretty, but it is necessary, as my bride and coworkers have rudely pointed out.

$13.99 for the manly scent?

Seriously?

It had better come with a guy named Hank to mow the lawn and trim the weeds around the sidewalk.

At that moment, a wisp of sparkling fog drifted past and carried a faint whisper.

Dairy aisle.

The pull was too great.

I followed the fog.

When I turned down the dairy aisle, there it was: a black-and-white rainbow calling to me, with puffs of light frost beckoning.

This way, Braxton. Just a little farther.

Before I knew it, I was standing in front of a glass door.

My eyes glazed over.

Zero sugar.

Low carb.

Peanut butter caramel ice cream.

I closed my eyes.

No.

I should not.

The Dairy Demon slithered close.

It’s okay. Just try it.

I opened my eyes and found myself at home, standing before the freezer with a spoon in one hand and peanut butter caramel ice cream in the other.

I had one teaspoon.

Then I tucked it away.

That is the dreamscape version.

Honestly, a small treat is all I really need at this point in my Rebuild.

Sometimes going off script does not mean abandoning the plan.

Sometimes it just means taking the long walk across the parking lot, choosing the better wrap, forgetting the sunscreen, arguing with deodorant prices, and allowing yourself one spoonful of something good.