|Chocolate, sweet chocolate.|
Used with permission from Microsoft.
"Don't eat them all at once," he cautioned when he gave them to me Monday night, knowing full well, I can only suppose, that I am powerless in the face of a box of good chocolates.
I'm really not so good at delayed gratification when it comes to sweets. I ate half the box Monday night and the rest for lunch yesterday.
He'll never know, I reasoned.
Then his flight was canceled due to bad weather in Chicago.
"Are there any chocolates left?" Rayne asked me over dinner last night.
"Ha-ha," I replied with a sheepish grin on my face.
"Why didn't you save any?"
There are a multitude of reasons, but here is the true one, the one I gave him, paraphrased for your convenience:
If there are ten chocolates in my pantry, I might as well eat them all at one time. Because then I only hate myself once that day (for that reason, anyway). If I eat seven pieces in the afternoon, I know full well I'm going to eat the other three later on, at which point I will hate myself again. So really, it's better to shove those last three pieces in my pie hole and save myself from the roller coaster of two bouts of chocolate-induced self-loathing in one day.
The sad thing is that I can see the logical flaws from an intellectual standpoint and yet, this argument makes perfect sense to me.
Anyone else get it?
Now, if you'll excuse me, my darling son is making room in the wine fridge for his toys by taking bottles out. I'm such a good mom.