Aww, Fudge!
Here’s the thing about my wife bringing fudge home from her trip: She doesn’t realize that fudge goes bad in a matter of hours. Minutes even. So, it’s important that I eat all this fudge as quickly as possible. Back me up on this.
If I don’t keep standing up, opening the fridge, and slicing off chunk after chunk of fudge, it’s just going to rot in there. And, then it might infect all the other food in our fridge. I already think the lettuce looks iffy. That’s why I had fudge instead of a salad for lunch. I’m just looking out for our health.
Who buys two pounds of fudge, anyway? I realize it was split up into several containers, intended as gifts for friends. But, I do not feel comfortable giving our friends rotten fudge as gifts. We won’t see them until 8 o’clock tonight, when the fudge will have turned terribly unsafe. Before that can happen, I promise to make sure all of this fudge is eaten and unable to hurt anyone.
There’s just so much fudge, though. I’m having a hard time getting through it all. Don’t get me wrong--I know it’s my responsibility to eat huge mouthfuls of fudge as fast as I can. But, my tongue is getting sore and my throat hurts, so I’m having to wash it down with can after can of soda. My teeth are making noises. Not good noises, either. Like horror movie noises.
Yet, I believe in myself, and I know I can do this. Thank goodness my unemployment provides me with the free time necessary to take on this project. And, thank god for this Gilmore Girls marathon to keep me company during the slog.
I think I’m keeping pace to have most of the fudge gone by the time Colleen gets home from work. That’s important, because she kept trying to hide it last night. It’s as if she thinks I’m kidding about the danger this fudge presents if left to sit out, uneaten for the rest of the afternoon. I guess sometimes the greatest deeds go unappreciated. But often, that is the truest heroism, the most nobly duty. And, I accept that responsibility.
