...potato chips.
OMG...I cannot believe how much I missed my cheddar cheese. Well, all my cheeses to be unspecific. And it is very comforting to know I have a reserve of peanut butter to last for quite a while.
However, what surprised me is how much I missed potato chips and it shames me to admit, I could hardly wait for the delivery driver to leave so I could search the bags, not for the cheeses, nor the peanut butter...but the potato chips. Oh, Buddy, did I scarf those babies down! Yes, yes I did. Every time I walked past the open bag on the kitchen counter I shoved one or two in my mouth, so that by the time I had all the groceries put away, half the bag of the Sea Salt and Vinegar ones were going, going, gone. I can't believe I did that.
The scenario went something like this, eat a chip, wipe my fingers on my sweat pants, put tomato sauce away. Eat a chip, wipe my fingers on my sweat pants, put celery in fridge. Eat a chip, wipe my fingers on my sweat pants, put toilet paper away. Seriously...eat, wipe, put, it took quite some time to finish the job.
It was kind of scary for me to discover I had such an addiction to chips, and I think I know now how junkies feel when they are in bad need of a fix. I tore open the bag in wild abandon, never giving a thought to the fact I could have scattered the chips all around the room. Then, not even caring if I was grabbing a whole chip or simply a fragment, I shoved one into my mouth. Ohhhh, that wonderful taste...salt...sour...I did not eat these in a lady-like fashion either, Emily Post would not have been pleased. Chomp, chomp, chomp. Wipe, wipe, wipe.
I could not stop, and probably would not have save for the fact I finished putting the groceries away and it occurred to me how thirsty I had become. So, I chugged down half a bottle of water. Bloated, full, and on a potato chip high, I was one happy camper. Wheeeeee! I was fly---in'.
I catch a glimpse of Frankie, she is sitting with a TV tray pulled up tightly in front of her. Her eyes are glazed over and her fingers appear to have a sticky substance on them.
Me: "Frankie, you okay?"
Frankie: "What?"
Me: "What on earth are you doing?"
Frankie: (Mouth full of food) "Eating."
Me: "I can see that...are you even bothering to chew?"
Frankie: (Wiping lips with back of sweatshirt sleeve) "Yeah." (Another blob of food enters her mouth. A blissful smile crosses her face.)
I walk over to the tray and peer over the lid of the box...and see the remains of what used to be a full size blueberry pudding cake. A quarter of the cake is missing. Well, dang...guess I'm not the only one with an addiction.
Me: "No, Zorro...sorry...there will be no peanut butter till tomorrow." (Sad, wistful eyes look up at me.) "Oh, alright, but just one tiny bite."
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