What are these, you might ask. Those, my friends, are Hershey kisses. I like to sit and eat them, and then roll up the tinfoil into a nice little ball so that you can’t see the little paper tag. I have even been known to unroll them if the tag is showing, and then re-roll them “correctly.” It is a sickness of mine. I don’t like the tags to stick out of the towels when I fold them, either; they must be neatly tucked in or it is just all wrong. Washcloths, too.
But let’s stick to the subject of chocolate. We all remember the cookie incident. I can assure you I do not exaggerate. Yesterday I ate 11 oreos. Today, 19 — NINETEEN — Hershey kisses. I looked over to the table where I was collecting the silver ball kiss remnants, and realized I had eaten 13. Then I looked in the bag and saw that there were only 6 left, and figured I might as well just eat them too, because 6 kisses is like a chocolate tease. How could that possibly leave me sated when I have a chocolate attack???
I worry about tomorrow. The only chocolate I have left is that bittersweet baking chocolate, blech. Well that, and a box of chocolates that my mom bought me in Paris. Parisienne chocolates. I really don’t want to eat them when I’m in this state of mind. I hope tomorrow is a better day, but based on my schedule of events for tomorrow, I’d say the parisienne chocolates are history.