Turns out, chocolate can go bad. Oh, not so bad that you’ll be calling the ambulance, but bad enough that you’ll wish you hadn’t eaten it. Maybe.
Preparing for class, digging through my bag in search of a pen, and I found one of these nuggets of deliciousness. Begging to be unwrapped and devoured. I obliged. Of course I did. And, so as not to seem greedy or somehow without manners, I bit the confection in half. Chewed. Evaluated. Seemed old — a bit stale. Sort of on the verge of crumbling perhaps, because the velvety smoothness I expected was sorely lacking. Maybe the second half would prove more satisfying…
Admittedly, I lost touch with reason. If the first half disappoints, logic kicks in, reminding that two halves of a singular whole share properties. The second half was same as the first. Still, I chewed. Evaluated. Here are my conclusions:
1. Into each life, a bit of sweetness must fall. Let it be chocolate. Smooth & creamy. Dark and rich. With nuts or without.
2. When the temperatures plummet, the snow flies and the wind seems hell-bent on pushing me along rather than permitting me to dictate my own pace, I turn to chocolate as a smoother of ruffled feathers, a mood enhancer, a sensation for my taste buds.
3. I will eat chocolate that has long passed its prime.
4. I will write about my idiocy and enjoy the effort.
5. In this age of distraction, I am delighted to discover that these remain: A love for words, the chance to read them while eating a bit of chocolate, and writing, for someone else to read.