The commercial caught my attention. Chocolate Cheerios. Need I say more? Think about it: the heart-healthy goodness of Cheeries and the toe-curling enjoyment of chocolate. The cereal had to have been invented by a woman. Right? I mean, it's so perfect for me!
I was standing halfway between the kitchen and the living room, my eyes glued to the TV screen, my heart rate accelerated, my hand itching to grab my purse and run out the door to Kroger, and my chin...well...my chin was drenched in drool.
"No, you can't have any," came the know-it-all voice from the recliner. "For you, chocolate is poison."
I rolled my eyes and stomped back into the kitchen, slamming a few doors for effect. "What's the use of being healthy if I can't enjoy my life?" I leaned around the corner to see if my remark had made its intended landing.
The morning paper never rustled. "Multi-grain Cheerios are better for you."
"Yea, but you make me eat them with skim milk." I kicked the bottom of the refrigerator, gently of course.
"And your heart thanks me for it."
I stuck my tongue out in the general direction of the living room and turned to pour a cup of coffee.
"A woman who's almost sixty-two does not look pretty pouting. You'll only have to slather on more of that anti-wrinkle concoction to undo the pouting effects."
My upper lip rolled back in a sneer. Then, like my favorite devils food cake, a plan started to rise in my mind. We were taking the Camry to the garage this afternoon for inspection. While that was happening, we were going for coffee and some writing time. Once I had the car back, I would stop at Kroger on the way home, since we were out of fresh fruit and whole grain bread. If a box of Chocolate Cheerios accidently happened to tumble into my cart as I strolled down the cereal aisle, what could I do, but buy it. Right? I mean, if I'd put it back on the shelf, the cereal might develop a complex from my rejection. You know, bad karma--whatever karma is. So, I waited.
My writing time proved productive. I wrote over 1200 words, my creative juices no doubt flowing because of all the chocolate fantasies. The Camry passed inspection. And I was headed for the grocery store. "I won't be long," I told Calvin. "I only need a couple things."
When I got out of the car, so did he. At my raised eyebrow, he explained, "I better go along, just in case something falls into your shopping cart." He shot me a knowing look. "You know, like donuts or a bag of candy or, God forbid, Chocolate Cheerios." He wrapped his hand around my elbow and walked me into the store. Men, you can't get nothin' by 'em!!!