First off, let me start by saying that I blame Nabisco.
And wholesale clubs.
And my husband.
But mostly Nabisco.
Here me out.
Hubbie loves coupons. He’s one of those who will get something we don’t really need because darn it, we can get a deal. And we belong to a wholesale club, which has not only good coupons, but “Buy any 4 items from this company, and get $8 dollars off” coupons.
This can be good.
Or this can be bad.
Basically, it was one of those coupons that was the reason I went to the club today with Little Man. And one of the items was a huge box of Chips Ahoy cookies.
Yummy, crunchy, cookies.
On the way home I was amazed at how my eyes kept straying over the box. (It was up front with me, along with frozen/refridgerated goodies, so it could be near some AC. Can’t have those chips melting now, can we?)
When we got home, I couldn’t bring myself to put it in the downstairs pantry to await a treat day. Oh no, the box insisted that I take it upstairs. I tried to take out just one package but was afraid that if I opened the box, that one package would jump right into my mouth. So upstairs it came.
It sat patiently on my stove as I put things away, but the bright blue of the box kept reminding me that it was there… holding the deliciousness that is a chocolate chip cookie.
I got The Boy happy and relaxing and went to check email and the like. But the whole time, they called to me.
It started off as a quiet plea, but grew louder and more persuasive until finally I couldn’t stand the wailing anymore and I gave in and ran to my beloved box.
I opened it.
Gently, I pulled out the first package.
With just a tug, it was open.
There they sat.
“One. Only one” I told myself.
I carefully selected the best one, and –
Sorry, the next part is a little too personal.
But here is my point.
Nabisco. They do… something. There is some device SOMEWHERE in the cookies, or the box, or the packaging, that sends out a subliminal message.
They make you want them. They make you eat them.
That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
Much like the way those cookies stick to my thighs.
You have been warned.