Today is normally one of the major highlights of the year for me-- after Christmas and Easter it's probably my favorite holiday.
That's right-- February 15th is Half-Price Chocolate Day.
Normally I get up early, ready to hit the stores and buy amounts of chocolate that are probably illegal in at least five states at 50, 70 or even 90% off. Then I claim I'm going to store them in my freezer and eat them over several months, but in fact I spend the next week in my house, hiding in a closet and gorging until I'm completely surrounded by wrappers and emptied heart-shaped boxes. Every once in a while Jeremy opens the door really quickly and throws some water bottles in there to make sure I don't get dehydrated and to check that I'm still alive. I usually hiss at him and clutch my remaining chocolate supply to my chest, and I think my eyes probably glow red by that point too. What can I say? Chocolate does that sort of thing to me.
Then eventually I run out of my supply and-- provided my atrophied limbs still work-- I squeeze myself out sideways through the door and waddle back out into the world, ready to take on another crazy year or, judging by the amount of weight I've gained, possibly to hibernate through the rest of the winter.
How could you not love Half-Price Chocolate Day? It's seriously the best holiday ever-- except for those really weird people who don't like chocolate, I guess. You know who you are. And yes, I am totally judging you for this. I highly suspect you are all actually robots or something and you don't have taste buds.
Anyway, today my plan was to drop Connor off at school and immediately run to the mall, where I would sprint from store to store in a rabid, frothy whirlwind of chocolate buying until I either ran out of money or spontaneously combusted from the excitement: whichever came first. Unfortunately Connor had his own plans, and about a minute and a half into his school day he had a big seizure and then promptly fell asleep. So I took him home, where he proceeded to snooze for the next four hours. I spent this time alternating between gnashing my teeth and wailing, thinking about how all the prime chocolate was probably gone by now, and checking my Facebook page. Connor slept until it was time to leave for his renal ultrasound. He woke up in a much better mood, which was good. At least one of us was happy.
He was relatively cooperative for that appointment. Perhaps a little too cooperative. The technician spent some time looking at and measuring his kidney, and then she moved on to his bladder. I sat there holding Connor in position and keeping up a constant distracting chatter to the little guy about the most natural topic that came to mind-- the state of his bodily functions.
"Connor," I said, pointing at the screen,"It looks like you need to go pee pee!"
"Pee pee?" Connor signed. "Yes!" And then he proceeded to demonstrate.
Anyway, by the time we got out of the ultrasound and dropped some paperwork by the developmental clinic it was time to sit for a while in rush hour traffic, and then Connor had to eat, and then before I knew it the whole day had flown by and I had missed Half-Price Chocolate Day. This is a tragedy on an epic scale, people. Tomorrow I can still go down to the store, but by then they'll be down to the sad, suspect chocolate that nobody actually wants-- the kind where you're not sure if it's actually chocolate or if it's a lump of wallpaper paste painted brown.
And then I would have had to wait a whole year, a whole entire year for the ridiculously delicious high quality chocolate to be on sale again at a price that wouldn't involve me taking out a second mortgage on the house. How do you think I keep my outlook on life so cheery? It's because I'm on a constant sugar high. Now my cupboard was bare and I was going to have to wait for the Girl Scout Cookies to come in before I had anything chocolately in the house, which could take at least a week. A week with no chocolate? My whole mental state was on the verge of collapse.
Okay, that might be a slight exaggeration, but I'm sure you would agree I was at least very, very sad.
Then Jeremy walked in the door, and he'd happened to stop by the commissary. Guess what he brought me? A whole bunch of chocolate! And the good stuff too-- apparently the commissary wasn't as picked over as the civilian stores usually are by the end of the day. Do I have the best husband ever, or what?
So that's the story of how my husband saved Half-Price Chocolate Day.
For the next week or so if anyone needs me, I'll be in the hallway closet. Feel free to stop by and chuck a water bottle at me from the doorway if you'd like; just don't ask me to share my bounty of chocolate goodness when I'm in the midst of my sugary frenzy.
That's how truffle-related homicides occur.
6 days ago