So, Kathy from Nova Scotia sent me an awesome recipe for chocolate chip oatmeal cookies. Because that’s what people do when they know you have an addiction. I love you, Kathy. If you send me an irresistible cake recipe, I’m leaving Carl for you. Whether you like it or not.
I stared at the recipe for a long time. It was eleven at night. At this time of the day, my defenses are at zero and nothing can stop me from eating.
Why does it look like you’re going to eat your phone? Carl asked.
I think I’m about to, I replied, trying to get him to hush it so I could go back to dreaming about chocolate chips and oatmeal creating a wonderful flavor explosion in my mouth.
You’re weird, you know this, right? Carl said, while peeking over my shoulder to glance at what I was staring at.
Five minutes later, I had all the ingredients out.
Seven minutes later, Carl asked, Could you make a batch without chocolate chips in ’em?
What the hell is wrong with you? How do you not like chocolate chip cookies? This is like the Twilight Zone living with you, I exclaimed.
Half an hour later, I was huddled on the sofa with a plate of four cookies.
Why not go all out and eat five cookies? mocked Carl.
Are you crazy? I snapped. Five cookies would make me sick. Sheesh, it’s like you don’t even know me.
Sometimes, I wish I didn’t, Carl sighed and went into his office. And shut the door. Pretty sure I heard him lock it as well.
Aren’t you going to help me clean up in here? I yelled through the door.
No response. Typical.
And apparently, four cookies make me sick.