I married Cookie Monster. John bought 18 boxes of girl scout cookies. There are only 2 humans living within the walls of this house, and one of us gave up sweets for forty days and forty nights.

But 18 boxes? They line the pantry shelf like best-selling hardback novels. And much like a new Stephen King novel,  you can’t lay it down, obsessively think about it until you get to the very end – of the fat book or the fattening box. Even when you know there can never be a happy ending. You lie awake at night. You may as well get a glass of warm milk.

The boxes stare at me each time I open the cabinet to reach for brown rice or coffee. The spine of the boxes summarize the girl scout story promoting “Courage Confidence Character”. What about Calories? Like the beating tell-tale heart, the boxes whisper in the wee hours as I sleep-walk by to let the schnauzers out. The moment John heads off to work with boxes and boxes of cookies for all, another shipment turns up at the door. How many more has he ordered? There are lots of girl scouts in our neighborhood.

This situation is reminiscent of the Frog and Toad cookie dilemma which I memorized at a child. If you were deprived and somehow missed the joy of these books, you really missed out on an important lesson in willpower. Toad baked delicious cookies and Frog couldn’t stop gorging on them, even when they were hidden away and difficult to reach. We adored that tale, even turning the short story into a play in our bedroom, acting out each line of the book over and over again. Cousin Lesa made a delightful Frog. We were easily entertained.

I am planning to whip up a fluffy creamy strawberry Trifle-y dessert thingy for Easter brunch with crumbled girl scout Trefoil cookies layered inside. And chocolatey thin minty brownies for the Cookie Monster tonight. It could be worse – I could be married to Oscar the Grouch.