Some days even an entire bar of Symphony chocolate doesn’t help.
Not for lack of trying, mind you.
I ate the first row to move past the constant pain in my lower gluteus region. The second went toward a HAZMAT-type situation regarding dirty dishes. The third disappeared sometime between telling children to sit back down at dinner and get back in the shower; you’re still soapy. I removed the fourth row of toffee-filled delight from the wrapper when the husband and I had a loud ‘discussion’ just before bed.
Problem is, I just found out that I wasn’t a finalist in a writing competition. I’d allowed myself to think I had a chance.
And there’s no fifth row of chocolate.