Have you ever noticed how many accidents happen around the holiday season?
My friend, knowing I especially love dark chocolate, gifted me with a bag of Hershey’s dark chocolate minis. I took them to my domain upstairs, mainly where I play on the computer and accidentally ate half the bag in one sitting. At least I guess that’s how all those wrappers got in the waste basket by the computer.
It’s two days before Thanksgiving. Of course there are the exorbitantly rich sweet potatoes that she makes once a year laden with calories, because, after all, it is a celebration. And I suppose another sister is going to show up with about three different kinds of her traditional pie varieties at the sister’s house that hosts Thanksgiving.
“What kind do you want?” she will ask as the slices are being served.
I go into the kitchen to survey the choices.
“Oh, I don’t know. They all look good. Can I have a tiny slice of each of them?”
“Well, I don’t know how much you want. You cut yourself a piece,” she will say.
I do; a conservative slice from each that I am very proud of myself for—I mean making them so small. Of course, given the discreet and modest size, I can compensate with the whipped cream.
Half an hour goes by and everyone is watching some football game. I’m not a football fan. I’m bored. Having a conversation with any of these people yelling at the TV is futile. I must be hungry.
I accidentally wander into the kitchen. There are those pathetically small pieces of pie, forlorn-looking because I have snipped them off to less than generous pieces. Poor things. I accidentally help myself to what’s left of one of the pieces.
Well, a little dollop of whipped cream sure would be good on it, I accidentally reason.
Another hour goes by. I’ve been wandering around playing with the 6-month baby in the family, who also doesn’t care for football, but now a couple hours have gone by since we all got up from the big meal, and everyone thinks they are getting hungry again. What is really is, is that they aren’t stuffed anymore, and so, by contrast, they only think they are hungry. They start stirring at the commercial break, wandering into the kitchen and picking at the turkey. Then they accidentally go for another slice of pie.
Someone has brought a box of chocolates, which everyone tells themselves they aren’t interested in, yet they have noticeably begun to dwindle as folks just decide it might be fun to try one and see what’s inside the mystery chocolate covering.
Now someone breaks open the non-alcoholic, but extremely fattening store-bought eggnog. I’ll just have a little. I again, exercise my conservatism by pouring only a little into the bottom sixth of the glass. Tasty! Maybe I’ll just have a little more. I accidentally pour another half this time. It’s Thanksgiving, after all!
Boy, some pie sure would be good with this. Okay, I know no one is going to eat that pathetic little sliver that I left. It would be a shame to let it go to waste. (So it goes to waist instead—mine!) Accidentally, of course.
Everyone is watching the game again. Hmmmm. I hadn’t noticed that dish of mixed nuts there. Maybe I’ll have a few—with a bit more eggnog. And why didn’t I see those M & Ms?
Now it’s time to pack up and head for home. Did someone say ‘leftovers? Well, since I didn’t cook, I won’t have any turkey sandwiches and pie if I don’t take some along.
I find myself perching a couple tin foil covered plates on my car floor. It would be a real shame to come to a stop and have them accidentally flying from the seat.
It’s almost time for bed now. Boy, a snack would be good. I’ve barely eaten anything all day. I accidentally wander to the fridge. Two foil-covered plates are staring back at me, calling my name. I innocently peel back one and accidentally discover the pie. One little slice before bed. I mean it’s been hours since I had anything to eat. It’ll be okay.
I go to bed thinking of the coming Christmas parties, extra church gatherings, the mixers, the networking, the cookies to be baked and exchanged, fancy breads and desserts to be made and accidentally eaten.
It’s the holiday season, after all. Accidents will and do happen! |
