It was an impulse buy.
A “mama’s been sick for 10 days and craves comfort food” buy.
It was a 2 lb bag of Brach’s Conversation Hearts. Yup, 2 pounds. 32 ounces. When I grabbed the bag from the shelf I imagined the lumpy candy on my butt, and bought it anyway. Take that crummy sickness.
Of course when impulse buying comfort food you dive in before the key is in the ignition on the way home, and dive I did.
Like completely crappy, not worth bothering sucked.
I bought the Brach’s so they’d be good. Didn’t they used to be good?
Yes, they did. I’m sure of it.
Then it occurred to me that the last time I had conversation hearts was in 2008 when I was filing tax paperwork for my mother-in-law. I couldn’t keep my hands off of them, they were scrumptious.
I kept trying different color combinations, sure that I would discover my initial disappointment to be misguided, but I’ll be dinged if they didn’t all suck. Every last one of those buggers.
But I kept eating them. Still picturing 32 ounces of lumpy sugar on my butt, I kept stuffing my face, completely convinced that the next handful would be a perfect utopia of sugary bliss.
But I didn’t need candy. I didn’t need food. I felt empty, but nothing in that bag would fill me. (Believe me, if it would have I would have gotten there, I tackled that baby with fierce persistence). I needed something I couldn’t get, and I settled for a pathetic substitute.
I needed sleep. I needed quiet time alone at home. I needed a break from running everyone to the doctor and making phone calls when I was running on triple E. More than anything else, I needed my youngest to sleep through the freaking night. Man did I need that.
It’s 3 days later. Ben slept through 2 nights, it’s sunny today, and I’m home alone. I didn’t have a single appointment or phone call to make today. I spent time with my husband, I ran, I walked, I put my feet up, and I took advantage of a Pokemon Go update.
And those dang conversation hearts no longer have a hold over me.