On my short commute to work every day, I pass a church with a billboard, proclaiming these statements to be so.
I spend so much time thinking about them afterwards that I thought I should use my blog as a forum to get the word out.
After all, the universe does revolve around me, so these epitaphs must be the man in the sky, speaking directly to me.
Pretty powerful, I know.
And if ever there were a message that spoke to my soul, of course, it would involve sugar.
Never Eat The Last Cookie*.
The thing is, I think this is really directed at my husband. I’m not joking when I say that my kids call him the cookie monster. And that’s really not said with love. It’s usually accompanied with stomping and pounding fists on the table, after my kids wake up to find that their stash is gone.
He might have a sleep eating problem, because the man eats little to nothing all day long. He’s scrubbed into surgery for six hours at a time, and can subsist for an entire day on a saltine cracker. It’s confounding, but probably a Darwinism thing, because not only can he not break to eat, but he also cannot break to go to the bathroom. For six hours. He’s like the bionic man, or something.
And lately, when he arrives home, he seems hell-bent to become Mr. Universe, because he’s on this strange yogurt kick. Our fridge looks like the dairy section of the supermarket. Yogurt for days. This is really annoying for me, as I adhere to the strict belief that calories consumed in tandem do not count. So now, when I am snacking on bacon and chocolate next to the yogurt hound, I’m kind of ashamed. And I deeply resent this.
There is one saving grace in all of this. The cookie monster rides again. Cookies continue to miraculously disappear in the middle of the night. One of these nights, I’m going to go all Big Brother on him and rig up cameras around the house. Then, when I need to dig into my chocolate/bacon stash, I will do so to video of my husband, and said caloric intake will actually be akin to celery. I think it’s a great plan.
*I’m sure there (may) have been some deeper meaning to the cookie message, but I think the universe definitely appreciates my take on this one.