Morning, Troublemakers. I seem to be on the upswing from whatever yuck I had last week. The last of my fever went away Friday and I only struggled with minor aches over the weekend. Now all that's left is lots and lots of kleenex and a dry, hacking cough that is making me quite popular. It doesn't matter how discreet you try to be, when you are making that sound, people will politely back out of your radius.
Sunday evening we were visited by one of Ryan's co-workers who brought over our yearly supply of Girl Scout cookies. I like that we're past the point of kidding ourselves. I know there were one or two years in there somewhere where we vowed to do good on our New Year's resolution of not eating junk and that included GS cookies, but we probably ended up getting at least one or two boxes anyway.
A number of years ago, the Girl Scouts wizened up and completely got rid of the order form, pretty much rendering their sales pitch unnecessary. Lets be honest here, somebody figured out those puppies sell themselves. I am way past convincing myself that I am being a do-gooder by helping ambitious young ladies with my donation.
It's about the cookies.
Thin mints. Samoas. Do-Si-Dos. Delicious.
The Samoa. Nature's most perfect cookie
Last year, after missing one girl at the door (I think I was on the phone or upstairs or something), I literally chased her and her mom down the street yelling, "Girl Scouts!". I am not making that up.
So after ordering way too many boxes this year, I am ashamed to admit I spent some time curled up in bed with a book and a box of peanut butter cookies yesterday. No, I did not eat the whole box, but I realize even that fact doesn't excuse my actions. The sad things is, writing about it has not even shamed me into not wanting to eat any more. In fact, it's making me want another right now. Help.