Yesterday I needed some chocolate. Most days I don’t think about it much but yesterday I couldn’t stop wanting it. My breakfast cereal with blueberries was good, but believe me there was no chocolate involved. By midmorning I was in the kitchen opening cupboards. Nothing. No misplaced Hershey’s Kiss, no candy bar, not one thing sweet and chocolaty and chewy. I went back to work feeling sorry for myself.
For lunch I had soup, a good soup with plenty of meat chunks and vegetables. I enjoyed it very much. But something was missing, if you know what I’m saying. I made another futile search and trudged, sag-shouldered, back to work.
Yes, my car was in the garage. There’s a store roughly three minutes from our house. Yes, I could have run down there and back and fixed my problem. But I wanted to work and sometimes it’s just better to be a martyr.
Sandy came home. We had a drink that had no chocolate in it. We had a delicious dinner of meatloaf, carrots, and salad. We had no desert. Our TV isn’t working so we sat and talked and caught up on the papers. I decided to dish some ice cream, the last of the homemade from a week ago. I opened the refrigerator. And there in the back, hiding behind the orange juice, was a small container of aging cookie dough! Chocolate chip cookie dough. I bought it the last time I went after pizza.
There was just enough dough in the bottom of the container to make three petite cookies. I spooned out the ice cream, baked the cookies, and marched triumphantly into the living room, a hero in my own castle. Someone should have played Pomp and Circumstance. We snacked like royalty. I even gave Sandy the bigger half of the cookie we split. And then, not long after, it was off to bed. A day filled with high drama and anxiety ended well. Today. I. will. not. think. about. chocolate.