I am having a really stressful day. One of those days where there’s a little black rain cloud hanging over the side of your bed, so when you stand up into it, it wraps you up like a burrito. One of those days a fortune cookie or a horoscope warns you about:
Aries: “….not one of your better days—stay away from everyone and everything”
“Happiness will be yours if you cover up with a blanket and hide” a similar Chinese-to-English translation might read.
On this kind of day, I need to lean on my crutch. My pacifier. My one vice…Chocolate.
Problem: Since I ate the last three chocolate Necco wafers my daughter didn’t like off her plate earlier (when it was only a “Chocolate Alert”)-- there isn’t a crumb of chocolate in this house.
I know there isn’t any more because as each molecule of chocolate enters this house, I keep a feverish, 24/7 mental surveillance on it (call it “Choc-dar”). I am aware when there is a spoonful of chocolate ice cream left in a container. I lift up the chocolate syrup in the fridge to see if there’s enough for a glass of chocolate milk. I know if there are any packages of chocolate pudding lurking in the back of my cupboard. I keep track of it all in case of a “Chocolate Emergency,” --during which time I prowl through my kitchen like one of those aquarium cleaner fish and suck up all chocolate products, so there isn’t even a “Cocoa Pebble” left.
Now---I’m PANICKING!! Right now-- I might even need to be hooked up to an IV for a few thousand CCs of chocolate malt. The rapid induction into my blood stream would allow the color would return to my face, my eyeballs to un-bulge, become un-bloodshot and un-“deranged.”
I just don’t know how to cope without that luscious, silky, delicious brown shot of happiness.
I NEED MY CHOCOLATE! When I’m stressed out and I don’t have my chocolate, I’m like a bad Gremlin; a beast. Did you ever see “Witches of Eastwick” where Jack Nicholson’s character starts turning back into Mephistopheles----looking “molted” and hobbling on his cloven hoove? He’s the EASTER BUNNY compared to me when I’m “chocolate-less” during a 3-alarm “Chocolate Deprivation Catastrophe.”
Someday—I might have to treat this addiction. Maybe they have something like a chocolate “patch” I could wear on my arm, like smokers do to kick the habit. But....
....Nah—I’d just eat it.