Leave My Chocolate Alone

by Lisa Rosen on November 30, 2012

“Wow.  That’s a lot of chocolate.”

This is what the young man bagging my purchases said to me the other day.

“Wow.  That’s a lot of chocolate.”

I was at the gourmet grocery in Chapel Hill, about a thirty-minute drive for me.  I don’t get over there nearly as often as I’d like, so when I do, I tend to stock up.  I’d been to the doctor in the morning, where ten–TEN–tubes of blood had been withdrawn from my arm.  The phlebotomist was on about tube seven when I started thinking I might deserve a treat, especially since I was being so good about not punching her (not that I didn’t consider it, but there was a needle in my punching arm, so I resisted the impulse).  A little jaunt over to the foodie store seemed like a reasonable reward.

So when that otherwise-perfectly-pleasant young man commented on the amount of chocolate I was buying, I once again considered resorting to violence.

But I didn’t–it’s not his fault, I suppose.  His basic survival instincts must not be working properly, or perhaps his mother didn’t teach him the Rules.

Rule #1:  Don’t get between me and my chocolate.

Rule #1a:  Don’t question or in any way comment on my chocolate consumption.

If I’m buying a large quantity of chocolate, there’s probably a good reason, and that is when you least want to draw my wrath.

But don’t worry–next time I see you buying a case of beer, I won’t ask if you’re going to drink it all yourself.  I won’t say a word.


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