||The little silver wrappers that littered the desk just behind my keyboard have disappeared; swept away by hope that the memory of their contents would follow them into obscurity.
Controlling my obsession is hard work; or is it an addiction? It is hard to tell really. Whatever moniker this preoccupation wears; it is a force to be reckoned with.
The object of my desire is chocolate. I am afflicted with a chocolate obsession. It is not even possible to romanticize this condition. It is a common, run-of-the-mill, ordinary, everyday obsession.
Observe the environment. Rows of chocolate bars tempt the devotee at every corner shop and grocery store. Shops devoted entirely to the sale of chocolate lure, and seduce as surely as the Sirens of Odysseus' time. Chocolate is everywhere.
I have developed immunity to publicly displayed chocolate. It is a form of denial. I do not see the packages and I do not smell the enticing aroma. Fortunately, there are usually less desirable items for sale at most retail establishments. I concentrate on those items. This works well. Few purchases of any kind are made because my attentions are focused on products I do not really want.
These techniques fail completely however, when chocolate passes through the doors and into the sanctity of my home. It is here that the full force of my problem exerts itself. You see I know the chocolate is there. Every random thought and every meander from a task at hand leads to the same place, the place where the chocolate waits. No matter how determined my resolve, I will seek out the chocolate and I will consume it. I will consume it all.
Attila was heading out to the grocery store last night, when I was seized with an urge, an urge for chocolate. The situation was ideal as far as obsession management is concerned. I would not actually be in the store, so that the act of selection could not tempt me into a chocolate buying frenzy.
"Just a tiny bit of chocolate, Attila, that is all I need. Just a tiny bit."
Attila suggested chocolate ice cream, his favorite.
"We could serve it as a treat at Christmas dinner," he offered hopefully.
I smiled sadly at Attila, aware of how much he likes chocolate ice cream. It just would not do. There was no possibility whatsoever that a tub of chocolate ice cream would last until Christmas Day. I would seek it out and I would consume it. I would consume it all.
Reluctantly I rejected Attila's suggestion.
"There are disadvantages to living with addicts, the ice cream idea just will not work." I said.
The full power of tolerance and love shone in our kitchen at that moment. Attila grinned.
"Just a little bit of chocolate, yes, I see," he said.
Later, after Attila had gone out to and come back from the store, I was presented with a handful of glittering, foil wrapped treasures. That is how those little silver wrappers came to litter my desk, just behind my keyboard.
It was wonderful; and now it is time to forget, until the wild desire for chocolate again rises from the depths of denial.
Denial can be good thing, even a necessary thing.
You see Attila did not realize that I heard the bag rustle. I heard him stealthily descend the basement stairs when he first arrived home from the grocery store. I heard the squeak of the freezer lid as it opened and closed.
We will not speak of such things. It did not happen.
On Christmas Eve, before I go to bed, I will set out a glass of milk and a plate of cookies for Santa. I do want to show him that I appreciate the chocolate ice cream he will leave in our freezer.
|RECIPES :: Cast
A Little Tradition
By the Easy Chair
by James Gardner
(Warning: nap enabling)
O Holy Night
with the National Philharmonic Orchestra
Temp: -1` C
Wind: W 26 km/h
Sunrise 7:52 AM EST
Sunset 4:52 PM EST
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