It was one of those days that started out great. Cool but pleasant driving conditions. Money in the bank longing to be spent. I got a parking space up close to the doors at the super store where I can buy everything from groceries to paint thinner. Not that I’m going to thin paint any time soon but at least I know where I can go to buy some when the mood strikes me. Inside, I walked right up to the courtesy desk, no waiting in line like I expected to do this close after Christmas. And surprise, surprise they had my lost watch in their ‘lost and found’ drawer. It had been in that drawer since the Monday before Christmas, not long enough for it to make friends with the two dozen other watches waiting patiently for their owners to take them home.
I did my grocery shopping which wasn’t that easy to do because I was also busy patting myself on the back for passing up all the tempting things in the cookies, candy, chips and ice cream aisles. Walking through those aisles was a real test of my will power. I had worked hard on my recent weight loss but I had also strayed off my diet over the holidays with all temptations around and I was determined to get back on track before I can’t even see that track anymore or worse, I don’t care anymore that it’s located on the corner of Better Health and Common Sense. The last area of the store I had to walk through to get to the cashiers was the Evil Bakery where I said to myself: Why you’ve been such a good little girl passing up all those cookies, candy, chips and ice cream you deserve a Bismarck.
“Are you crazy?” I heard another voice saying. I looked around. I was alone so I figured I must be talking to myself again. Is that a byproduct of living alone or am I---well, you know---on the bridge leading to the land of senility? If so, I should be there by now because I’ve been talking to myself since Ring was a pup. You know Ring. I wrote about him in my last blog. He’s the old Beagle Don had when he was a kid. “Ring time” was a marker for him, sort of like using B.C. and A.D. for before and after Christ was born. Okay, I’d better strike that last line out of the final draft so I don’t offend anyone who might erroneously think I’m comparing Ring’s importance in Don’s world to the importance of Jesus in the history of the world. But darn it, to a boy of 14 or 15 the death of a dog you’ve had your entire life is pretty important. If not for Ring’s passing, Don might never have reached out and discovered girls.
Back to the jelly filled Bismarck. As I reached in the case to pull one out I swear it looked at me as if to say, “Sweetie, are you sure you want to do this?” And because I really didn’t want to do that I ate it in the parking lot before coming home so the evidence of my sinful ways wouldn’t be around to mock me. Damn it, it's time for a sugar detox again! How many times do I have to have sugary treats grab me by the throat and insist that all my troubles will be far away if I just consumed it? Wait! “All my troubles will be far away?” Isn’t that a line in a Beatles’ song? Great. Now I’m channeling a song that never fails to make me cry. “Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it looks as though they're here to stay. Oh, I believe in yesterday.” Yup, only a crazy person could connect a classic Beatles song like Yesterday to a Bismarck from the bakery aisle. Or maybe a would-be writer could to that, too? So am I off the hook, off the train to Crazyville? I guess as long as I’m not grabbing the aluminum foil out of the drawer in the kitchen to fashion myself a hat, I’m still okay.
All kidding aside, my eating is out of control although my bathroom scales hasn’t yelled, “Loser!” at me yet---that didn’t come out right. I wish it would shout “loser” at me. What I meant to say is I haven’t lost or gained anything over the holidays but I have to turn that round so that I’m losing again. But mostly I have to get the sugar monster off my back. Oh, well, my day may not have ended as good as it started---contrary to how it might look, binge eating does not make me a happy camper---but at least the dog didn’t see me do it. ©