Making ’em Last

I have had three Reese’s Peanut Butter Eggs screaming at me from the cabinet in my kitchen since Easter.  Okay it’s only been a week, but chocolate can make a lot of noise in that time.  I bought one as a treat to have on Easter, but didn’t eat it then because there was a sliver of Key Lime Pie with my name on that was more persistent.  How three got up in the cabinet I don’t know.  I thought the rest were put in baskets.  Maybe I lost my mind and sleep-walked them there while in a stupor. But three there were.  Notice the past tense?  Were.

I worked out like a lunatic today, came home, had a decent sized lunch but still wanted one of those eggs.  So I wrote a little, visited with a friend a little, watched a recorded show with Himself for an hour or so, and still those suckers were screaming and doing a tap dance in the cupboard like the Rockette’s at Woodstock.  Shut Up!

Then I thought, why?  Why should they shut up?  Why don’t I just eat one and put it out of its misery?  I had enough points left (They are 8, by the way) to have one and still have a decent supper.  So I made a cup of decaf, because by the time I convinced myself the world wouldn’t explode if I had a damned peanut butter egg, it was too late to have caffeine.  Then I prepared the egg.  Omelets don’t get this much attention.

I took more time slicing and dicing that little egg than Joan River’s plastic surgeon did on her face.  Each piece had to be big enough to suck the life out of and small enough to make me feel like I was eating much, much more than one pathetic little chocolate peanut butter egg.  I would not leave it on the wrapper, but use a clear glass plate so it felt more special.  Fancy, schmancy.

It worked.  I made that delicacy last for twenty minutes, flipping each little piece out with a steady finger, like I was playing pick-up-sticks and didn’t want to disturb the others.  I popped a piece in my mouth, shut my eyes and savored until there was nothing left to savor.  Delicious.  Spectacular.  So worth the wait.

Somehow the other two in the cabinet shut up.  I can let them sit because they are not Lays Cheddar/Sour Cream Potato Chips, which are not allowed in the house.  But when those last two Reese’s start making racket, I’m going to hold them off like General Patton in a bunker with Rommel advancing.   Until I have a double exercise day, just like today.  Then I’ll make ‘em last.  Yuuuummmmmyyyyy!

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