February 6, 2009
Every now and again I experience the overwhelming and urgent need to spend an hour's worth of my income on candy. Nothing fancy or grown up about--I just want candy.
Like yesterday for example--in the morning I bought a bag of carmels with the white powdered sugar dot in the middle, at lunch time I bought a giant bag of Peanut M&Ms from the grocery store, when I stopped at the gas station on my way home I picked up some swedish fish, and then last night, on my way to art class I got myself two packages of Starburst and one Reese's Big Cup.
Disgusting, isn't it?
Now just to clear things up, I didn't eat all of the candy in one sitting. Sure I ate some of it, but for the most part I've been hauling my ten pounds of happiness all around town in my purse thinking, "I'm an adult, damn it. I can have as much of this stuff as I want."
It's also fun to sit across the table from the Superintendent of Schools, dig through my bag for an important contract, look up, smile, and say, "Swedish fish?"
Just so you know, the Superintendent of Schools loves swedish fish. Peanut M&Ms? Not so much--and I can't say I blame him, it was a poorly executed spur-of-the-moment choice on my part. Very embarrassing.
But not as embarrassing as, let's say, dribbling a pool of red candy coated spit all over the middle of the very important contract. The Superintendent, bless his heart, got a little overzealous with the fish. And really now, who can blame him?
And my three-year-old son? He's not on to me in the slightest.
Yesterday afternoon, as we were zipping along in the car, James clearly watched as I slipped a carmel into my mouth. "Mommy," he asked, "what was dat?"
"It was a giant broccoli vegetable vitamin, buddy. Do you want one."
"Uh, no sanks."
I didn't think so.