No disrespect intended, but Gump’s mom was wrong. Life is not like a box of chocolates.

Not if the box is one of those heart-shaped boxes you buy at the last minute at the grocery store on Valentine’s Day Eve.

Unlike this box of chocolates, most of life is good. There are more good surprises than bad. If you are looking for a good piece of candy in one of these boxes, my hopes and prayers are with you because you’ve got a better chance of meeting Willie Wonka.

Don’t hold your breath.

Some people like these boxes. One friend of mine even requested her husband get her just that this week. Which he did. (She also makes him eat a banana each weekday morning, even though he hates bananas, and she made him buy his own bananas that Sunday night to bring home. The ultimate indignity and a long story. More later. Back to bad candy.)

So some people like the candies in the red heart-shaped box. Some people like Brussels sprouts too. And the Toronto Raptors. And Olympic curling.

The pieces of candy look different, but there’s no way to tell what will be in what. You’ll see about six dark, dark pieces. Those are automatically out. There will be a couple of creamy ones that are trying to be strawberry flavored. Once will cover a big hard nut. Fittingly, everything else in the heart-shaped box tastes like the aorta or ventricle.

One, maybe two, will taste like a Nestle Crunch. Not quite, but at least it’s trying. And that’s it. That’s the Holy Grail of every box.

Bet the box tastes better than the candy.

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