After a questionably delightful lunch of reheated leftover turkey sage meatloaf with a handful of arugula tossed on top (for, you know, vegetables), the last bit of birthday cake was demolished.
Really, only the frosting part and the wee bit of cake that abuts the frosting is the good part. Right?
SO, the harsher reality sets in, the one in which there are really no sweets in the house. Yikes.
I don't want to set completely rigid rules for myself, and thus be doomed to failure, inevitably. I'd like instead to abide by a firm guideline, so that I can choose to waver (ie, driving home from Grand Junction on Saturday, I may partake of a sweetened beverage and candy bar), but overall, for both humans' sakes, we need to kick the ass of the candy habit.
Oh cake, how I will miss you. You've sat there, quietly and patiently, ever so slowly growing more stale these past few days, each day growing smaller and smaller, yet in spite of your mediocrity managing to hit the sweet fix I need at the end of the day. Adieu.
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