There are cookies in the house.
This is a problem.
It started out as a nice gesture for my husband. He loves Ginger cookies and in our 16 ½ years of marriage I have whipped up a batch a total of three times for him. Each time as a surprise. This time was no different. He went away on a business trip and when he came home I had a Tupperware container wrapped, bow and all, sitting on the table waiting for him with a card that said, “Just because.” Sweet eh?
Yeah.
Sweet all right.
I never should have tasted the soft ooey-gooey sweetness of the sugar and molasses melded together with love. No. Now I know how good they taste.
And therein lies the problem.
Why do I have the will-power of a monkey?!? Only instead of my temptation being bananas, no, it has to be blindness disguised as a cookie!
I know myself well enough to normally store nothing in my house that will cause me to stumble. Stumble right into the clutches of momentary pleasure sneakily wrapped in hidden life-long consequence.
I thought I was strong enough.
{sigh}
My husband is going to have to take those little devils to work with him. Tomorrow.
Until then, the monkey within me will just have to starve. I will take control. I must take control.
It is almost unfathomable that a cookie could contain so much power.
Almost.
Unfortunately the boxing match between Mr. Will and Mr. Temptation is very, very real.
I pray it’s a knockout.
And I hate violence...
