Monday, October 30, 2017
I Am So Ashamed
I Am So Ashamed
I cheated this weekend and I am so ashamed. I did not want to cheat, I did not seek it out, I was stalked, I was lured. I could have walked away, I should have walked away, but I am weak and I folded, I succumbed to temptation, and I am so ashamed.
Mrs. C was away for four days this weekend working for a ballroom dance competition that her boss runs every fall. I was left alone, alone with nothing to stop me from giving in to temptation.
It was innocent enough. It started at the local Shop-Rite. I did not mean for it to happen, but I did need supplies. Maybe I can blame Mrs. C for leaving when all my meals were not provided…no, I won’t stoop that low.
I was wandering the aisles on the hunt when I was overcome by an aroma so intoxicating that it stopped me in my tracks. I did not know such pick-ups existed much less were common in a supermarket, but there it was, temptation calling to me. It was an aroma that whisked past that part of the brain that says, “Don’t do it” and settles in that brain lobe that says, “Yes, damn the consequences, do it…D O I T!!!”
And I did. I made the first move. I strolled around looking innocent while I sized up the provocative temptation that was before my eyes.
Not that rotisserie stuff they sell, but genuine fried in grease chicken. Crispy skin, grease visibly oozing through the crispiness, fried chicken. The aroma, oh my God the aroma! And there I was, without a tug on my shirt and a firm wifely rebuke, “Move along old man, you can’t handle that!”
I looked around several times and no one seemed to care, so I grabbed that plastic container of brown gold and ran to the check-out register.
There were six pieces in that container and when home I planned to eat one piece for dinner, maybe two, and save the rest for dinner the next night and even as a snack the day after that.
I am a weak man. I tried to resist, but I had two pieces for lunch, and about two hours later I had three pieces for dinner. I did save a scraggly wing for later. I had not had proper greasy crispy fried chicken since they put the Colonel underground and I could not restrain myself.
It was good. It was unbelievably good, but then I went into a fried chicken coma. It happened while sitting in front of the TV and it did not let up until around midnight. I was released from the coma to tend to the thunderstorm that was developing in my distended stomach.
It is only now, a full day later that I am recovering. I cheated, and I am so ashamed. I think I have learned my lesson though. Yes, the chicken was fantastic, but the consequences of that momentary pleasure is just not worth it.
I will never cheat again.
However, Mrs. C is not due home for a few hours, and there is that last piece of a scraggly wing…