Saturday, March 02, 2013
The job I have on Saturdays usually keeps me pretty busy, and I don't have a lot of time to go grazing for food. Unfortunately, there are those few good-hearted people who feel the need to buy or cook a treat for the Saturday "crew" and leave boxes of Girl Scout cookies, or a dozen of day-olds (see blog from 2/2/13), or home-made cookies in the break room. Oh, and of course, the master-planner of office design thought it would be a good idea to put all of the printers in the break room so you are tempted by the aforementioned sugary carbs every time you print a document.
"You want a copy of your test? Sorry, I don't have 30 minutes of treadmill time available to work off that document".
SO, I'm in the breakroom to get my printouts, and there are the infamous, "Hey, don't forget there are cookies in the break room" cookies that I have been hearing about all morning. And they look goooood. Soft carrot cake cookies with cream cheese frosting. Yuh-Uhm.
I look toward the door, and there is no one coming in. I quickly glance sideways each direction. No one else is in the room. No witnesses. The little cookie appears between my fingers as if from thin air--I don't remember picking it up--and I feel the immediate guilt. The internal conflict. Do I eat it? How many calories have I had today? I wonder how many calories are in this thing? Mmm it smells gooood. Suddenly there is sweetness in my mouth but the remaining crescented cookie is tumbling to the floor, as if in slow motion.
There is this moment...a silence-filled, incredulous moment...where the cookie lands on the carpet. Frosting. Side. Down.
And I start laughing.
God speaks to me, at times, through symbolic events and coincidences, to let me know when my decisions are poor ones.
And sometimes He just knocks the cookie outta my hand.