March 24, 2008 § 1 Comment
There is no obvious link between Easter and chocolate (discounting the bunny thing) but there it is on the kitchen counter, nearly two pounds of chocolate in various guises and it has a voice, mostly a sweet siren song that appeals to just about anyone who’s ever tasted chocolate to begin with and has any degree of a sweet tooth.
Good thing my daytime office is several miles away. And I took none of Easter’s chocolate bounty with me to work. Yes, many’s the time my mind strayed today toward the delice of a Bissinger dark chocolate egg, the quick fix of a Hershey kiss in pastel foil, the cheesey satisfaction of a chocolate covered marshmallow egg (I don’t do Peeps) while I worked away at my desk. But no, I staid my personal course and did not give in to the cheap tawdry over-priced crap in the vending machine.
Though I got home without doing any 80 cent choco-corn syrup damage, it’s the after-dinner hour. I successfully manueveured through dinner prep and consumption and conversation without any of those Easter chocolate snipers firing at me from my psyche or the counter or from HM, who kissed me hello with Easter chocolate mint breath.
The kitchen counter, though; therein lies the ambush. That brave little island in the kitchen is suddenly in the evening quiet so central to the entire house, with a direct line/path to my desk where I am now working on an article. (This one has no deadline, thus my mind can wander.) I am in trouble. Why? Because:
- The dogs need a walk. Must go into the kitchen to get their leashes from these cute little doggie tail hooks on which the leashes hang. Must grab a caramel from the Bissinger ballotin whose second-layer drawer is partially open.
- I need some water. I do not drink water from the bathroom tap. So, back to the kitchen again for some H2O. Oops! Need a mint with the sugar-detailed decoration on top of each and these coy little treats are just so swipable as I walk by.
- After getting 1,000 words on paper, need some juice, something with electrolytes, like orange juice. Like a bite-size KitKat in Easter color wrapper. A walk-by quick fix indeed.
- The door to the laundry room is open and the sound of the dryer thumping with several pairs of jeans is wrongful counterpoint to my tapping madly on the keys. Must go close the darn door and on the way, swipe a large chocolate egg (no lectures, it’s a hollow one, thank you) from a giftbasket the kids brought over.
So if it’s a problem, if it’s distracting you from your work and above all, that assignment you could pick up for a pretty penny as long as you turn it in within 36 hours, if the chocolate is a walk-by weight-on problem (my conscience is talking now, especially on that last bit about the “weight on”), then clean all the chocolate off the counter. Stash it. Put it away, out of sight.
Honestly, have you ever met chocolate that didn’t have that sweet singing voice? You could bury it in the back yard and still it would call out to you in the darlingest of compelling tones and you would grab your shovel and go dig it up. And eat it.
Um, no. That just wouldn’t be right, to put it away. Other people in the house might want some and then they wouldn’t be able to find it, maybe for days or week or months.
And chocolate, as everyone knows, should be eaten fresh.