Strawberries and Condiments

My wife Mollie makes sure to stock the kitchen with my favorite foods. She will bring me half a dozen big oatmeal raisin cookies and a couple containers of ice cream in a single trip to the grocery store. I do not worry about anyone else eating the cookies because everyone thinks they are healthy and taste like sawdust. I like any ice cream or frozen yogurt but Mollie buys the coffee flavor because no one else will touch it. I have no incentive to pace myself in consuming these treats because she automatically restocks whatever we run low on. So my lack of restraint is appalling. I am embarrassed that she does all the shopping but we both agree that my binge buying is even more out of control. I have always assumed that she takes such good care of me because she loves me so much. But others find that hard to believe. These last five years of reading a vast assortment of Blog postings has taught me to examine things from different angles. I have learned about surprise twists and dark turns. I have become more suspicious. The other day I was shocked about gaining two and a half pounds in a single day. What did I think was going to happen if I gorged on cookies and ice cream all the time? Liz says instead of telling her husband when she is annoyed at him, she puts strawberries in his salad. And Boyd says when he is mad at his wife, he opens a bottle of some condiment when one is already open. So I am starting to consider the possibility of a darkly delicious twist where Mollie is trying to make me fat.