I've been sitting at the island in the kitchen for the past hour doing e-mails for work. It seems like it never stops some times. I got home from work, dropped my bag just inside the door, washed my hands, sat down, ate some dinner, got up from the table, put away the leftovers, and then grabbed my laptop. In no time at all, it seemed like I'd never even left the office.
For dessert, I had leftover raspberry cake that Kim had made for Easter brunch. That meant I passed over the lemon bars and Georgetown Cupcakes that were also leftovers from Easter brunch. The raspberry cake was awesome. But, so were the lemon bars. And, the cupcakes were also pretty good. But, tonight didn't really seem like a three dessert night (I had one of those last night) so I decided to settle just for the raspberry cake.
As I sat at the island typing away, I kept glancing up at the cupcakes and the lemon bars. It wasn't that I was still hungry. I'd had plenty for dinner and my belly was full. But, the desserts were just sitting there, staring at me. The lemon bars were in a clear plastic sandwich bag. I could see that there were only two little bite-sized squares left. Who would even miss them? I couldn't do it, though.
Proud of my self-control, I went back to e-mails. More time went by. I kept wondering how many cupcakes were left in the pretty pink box. After a few more minutes, I had to look. "Hmmm -- five and one-half cupcakes. One-half of a cupcake isn't going to kill me, is it?" I decided that it actually might. I slowly headed back to my stool and started tapping away again.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I got back up from my stool, walked over to the counter, and picked up the lemon bar bag. Then I set it back down. I re-opened the box of cupcakes. Then I forced myself to close it.
This was getting ridiculous. Then, I got a bright idea. I got out my lunch bag, made a sandwich, threw in some chips, and then popped in the lemon bars.
That's all it took. Now that I knew that I had stashed away some more dessert for myself, I could concentrate. I felt just like a squirrel, hiding nuts in anticipation of winter. Now, tomorrow morning I just have to remember where I hid my lunch bag.