I See What You Did There
I don’t know how Friday nights are around your house, but here at the Pensinger Palace, they can sometimes be a little interesting. And by interesting, I mean they’re not.
Take this past Friday night. Jerimiah was in the garage, being all productive and stuff. Meanwhile I sat brain-dead in front of the TV. Eating. Because that’s what I do when I’m brain-dead. (And stressed, and happy, and—well, you get the point.)
I try really hard to keep junk food out of my house so I won’t have anything to binge on when I get in brain-dead mode. But a lovely friend recently gave me an extra bag of cinnamon baking chips, which is what I found myself eating by the spoonful. (In times of dire need, I’ve been known to consume straight-up brown sugar.)
In-between mouthfuls, I alternated between bursts of self-loathing and whining to God about my lack of self-control. But still I pressed on …
Actual footage from Friday night.
I make a heaping spoonful and insert it into my mouth.
I don’t really have a problem God. This is Megan’s fault for giving me her extra cinnamon chips. Surely she didn’t think I would use them for baking.
If I didn’t have this crap in my house, I wouldn’t be cramming it in my mouth right now.
Another spoonful gets loaded.
I can stop anytime I want. In fact, I’ll start fresh tomorrow. Yeah.
The next spoonful goes in my mouth and chewing commences. Reload. I flip the TV station and watch the public service channel to see if the ad for my speaking gig at the library next week shows up.
Gad. Can’t believe I’m watching the PSA’s on a Friday night.
Before I know it, I’m on the floor I’m laughing so hard. Because sometimes, God is so wonderfully blunt with me. The newest PSA announcement to grace the screen is for the local meeting of Overeaters Anonymous.
Well played God. Well played.