Sugar Run

I’m going to a potluck tomorrow. I’m bringing dessert. So I dedicated my early evening to powdered sugar and semi-sweet chocolate chips.

I was well into making my addictive chocolate-and-peanut-butter treat of choice when I realized that the box of graham crumbs in the cupboard wasn’t a new one. In fact, it was a nearly empty one. It was past 8 p.m., I had a million other things to do, and there I was, standing in my kitchen feeling helpless.

So I ran. To the grocery store.

[First I took off my apron and put on shoes. Details.]

My street is poorly lit. As I ran down the sidewalk, I approached a tall man in a black coat. On an ordinary no-food-emergency night, I would probably hesitate to encroach upon his space. But I didn’t have time to be intimidated this evening. I ran past him.

I scared him.

He started, jumping back slightly before catching his breath. He looked at the stranger in the dark and laughed nervously.

I apologized and kept running. He smiled when he saw that I wasn’t going to stab him.

A friend once observed that I might unintentionally intimidate some men. Tonight, such an observation was validated. Even towering shadowy figures cower in my presence.

P.S. Last night I lamented that I struggle with fitting exercise into my daily routine. Apparently the threat of an impending sugary disaster is all the motivation I need.