There are a number of times I have marveled that I am not yet dead, and tonight is one of them.

A week ago, the sister of a colleague brought in an order sheet for Girl Scout cookies. Her daughter has to sell them, she brings the sheet to the office, I buy some obligingly.

Compulsively.

This morning, the cookies had arrived in the office, and in a bag at my desk when I arrived were the two boxes I ordered- a box of Samoas, and a box of Thin Mints.

I laughed and told Tim that they’d be gone by tonight, but inside I knew the truth. That probably was the truth.

I even offered Tim a box, secretly hoping he would save me.

Save me from myself.

He indifferently denied the offer, and I despised him and his self-control.

I pushed the cookies aside and went to work- but all day, they were there, hiding in that gray plastic bag, calling me.

Fast forward to 9:30 PM this evening.

It happened so quickly.

“I’ll just have two”, I told myself, modestly, prudently.

And suddenly a row of Samoas was gone.

And then the second.

And then…

I can at least assure you that I did not eat both boxes.

I will say that my gallbladder feels solid and swollen in my gut like a good skipping rock by the lake. My heart is beating I’m running on a hamster wheel, if I was a hamster. My face is flushed. And my gums hurt from all the decay I ingested.

And how I don’t have diabetes by now truly baffles me. It is in my genes, and I go crazy anytime I have a cache of sugary treats around. Just ask the Chicago Mix popcorn bags. I clear a half a one of those out at a time.

And if cancer does thrive on sugar, again, I am not sure how I am still here.

All I do know is that I can’t deny the chocolate and caramel and coconut power trio.

And, that because of that drug pusher devil child coming round, I still have another box of crack cookies in the house, and the day ain’t done yet.