Thursday, March 30, 2017


I was out of trash bags for a week. Every time I went to the store, I forgot them. Last week at 10 O’clock at night I decided I was tired of the trash that was collecting on my table, on the counter, in a nice neat pile there by the front door, so I went to the grocery.

All the way to the back of the store I go. Past the dish soap, the spray starch, greeting cards, light bulbs, charcoal and paper plates Here at last, the garbage bags!

Why would they put a pallet of chocolate chip cookies there by the trash bags? Cookies are supposed to be at the other end of the store. And its not just chocolate chips, but the ones with M&M’s, brightly colored, and pecan sandies, and even those chocolate dipped marshmallow rosettes on the cookie crust.
I hadn’t bought cookies in a year.

I looked. I resisted. I looked and started to step away, Stopped. Started. Why would they do this. Brightly colored M&M’s. They call. The pastel tans of the sandies. Beckoning, like a white whale. Huge chunks of chocolate.
Away! Away! Get thee away!
Two steps and back.
Four steps and back.
Yet again.
I staggered ten steps to aisle 9 and started to take a left.
Stopped. Started. Away!
I can’t. I must.
I go on. Halfway down the aisle now. I can’t go on.
I’m hooked. I knew from the minute I saw them.
In a half trance I turn and moonwalk back to the brightly colored reds, blues, yellows.
All the little elves, dancing gaily from the hollow tree.
They want to go home with me. I want to take them there.
I limit myself to one package. Only one stop more now.
A half gallon of milk.
And home.

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