Jelly beans are evil.
I innocently bought a big tub of Jelly Bellies. I have three children, three baskets, I need a lot of jelly beans.
Yes, I still do baskets even though my “children” are 20, 17 and 14. Don’t judge.
I bought them, I planned ahead and patted myself on the back. Then a couple of nights ago I was up late, I was writing. Writing is hard work and I was a little grumpy. The only things remotely yummy in the kitchen were almond butter and some blueberries that looked iffy.
The house was quite, everyone was asleep. I had just written what I thought were a pretty good group of sentences. I leaned back in my chair and that’s when I remembered the beans. I swear they smiled at me, dared me through that plastic bucket. I looked around, kind of like a spy, but more ridiculous.
I picked up the container and started to twist the lid. I told myself, like any good crack addict, that I would just have a few, just a small hit. As I took the lid off, I was saved.
A seal.
There was a seal on the container. You can’t break a seal. Then it’s harder to just take a few and put it all back nice.
If the seal is broken the jig is up, the deed is done. I sighed, screwed the lid back on, turned away from the evil beans, and went back to work.
Less that an hour later, I reached a stopping point. I’d done some good work for the night and then I remembered I still had an episode of The Good Wife to watch on iTunes. I got a cup of tea and started the show. It would be a forty minute escape, a reward for my hard work and then I would go to bed.
As Alicia started to cry because stupid Will had to die, I felt the need for something. It was emotional and sad and I needed…the evil beans beckoned.
I looked over my shoulder, they assured me no one could see the seal. “Besides,” they all said, “you’re an adult, if you want a yummy snack, you should have one.” The beans told me they were low fat and that I had spin in the morning. They promised they would stop calling to me after a couple of small handfuls, a serving.
Seal came off, four handfuls (like the size of Shrek), were consumed that night and now I can’t stop. I’m almost to the half way mark of the container and I can no longer feel the roof of my mouth.
Last night I looked at the label on the tub and matched up the flavors as I ate them, like it was a game. I have these headaches and I brush my teeth twice before bed just to chisel off the sugar.
The evil beans won. The seal tried to save me, but I wouldn’t listen and now…now, I’m on the dark side. I’ll have to spin until Easter to keep my ass intact and there aren’t enough beans for the baskets now.
I mean there might be, but once you hit the half way mark, you might as well finish, right?
My thoughts from the laundry room. Do Not Eat Before Bed.
crazy life Easter food humor stupidity Easter eating food fun jelly beans laughter life women Writing