Well, you might as well all know.... I was caught with my hand in the cookie jar. (Literally, this blog is actually about cookies.) I was at Walmart over the weekend and just trying to waste time as I waited for my pictures to be developed, and as I was browsing the photo frame isle (I wasn't even NEAR the cookies!) I saw a sign for candy-cane oreos. Really, how can a girl pass this up, right? However, I did just tell my husband to keep me accountable on the diet we resumed after Thanksgiving... but perhaps I can get them and only eat a few (she justifies to herself)? I'm weak and disgusting, so I bought them (eating half the box in the car ride home from the store) and I hid them upstairs in my closet. (If I left them in the pantry, it would just be tempting to him too, and I'm no Eve.... plus, he would just eat them all and I'm too selfish to share something that good.... I told you I'm terrible, just read the title.)
Tonight, I went upstairs to watch some tv and my hubby had left to go to the store for a few minutes. I took this opportunity to binge (ever so slightly) on the remaining treats hidden in my closet. I was down to the final two cookies when I heard the front door close. Quickly, I shoved the cookie I was holding into my mouth and hoped the last delicious nugget would blend into my nightstand so he wouldn't notice it. I lept off the bed, choking on dry crumbles, and ran to the other room, attempting to hide the cookie carton in the bottom of the garbage (one that only I change anyway). On my way back to the bedroom, I heard his footsteps coming up the stairs so I sped up.... my slippers slipping on the hard wood floor as I made the turn, nearly choking on the food in my mouth. He comes into the room just as I'm leaping into bed, feeling guilty and sure he will notice the brown gooey marks around my lips. No. The man notices (with his cookie-spying eye) the brown, camoflauged goodie on the nightstand and says (with shock and accusation) "What the heck is this!" I turned red and thought fast, trying to make up some believable story for the mystery cookie next to me.... should I deny it's presence? Perhaps I could tell him I found it behind the bed and hadn't thrown it out yet? I opted for the truth, leaving my silly justifications out of it. And then he ate my final cookie in one big mouthful, scolding me with his eyes. I told him how I almost fell and choked on the oreo. He thought it served me right.
I'm a terrible, terrible person.

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