I've been working steadily for two weeks cleaning in spots that haven't seen daylight in years; re-arranging congested rooms too small to hold the stuff we have; designing, designing, and designing candy wrappers.
However, today I decided to take a day off. When I held a full time job I often had many unused sick days. I never got sick! So, I would use them as mental health days.
"I've got a crappy mental 'tude. I'm taking a day off!" I sometimes told the managing editor who understood and knew I hadn't had a day off in quite some time.
Today I decided to take a mental health day and make old fashioned, homemade fudge. It's setting to harden enough to eat as I type. What better joy is there than to lick the pot the fudge was boiled in? I sat in my recliner with the large pot in my lap while alternating a spatula and soup spoon to scoop and dig out the yummies.
Ah, the taste of chocolate! But it wasn't just chocolate, you see. I included Mexican spiced chocolate and zest from an orange. By the time I finished I had chocolate on the front of my sweatshirt but hardly any remnant of remains in the pan. Such sweet delight...
I put the pan into the dishwater to soak then went into the bathroom. As I stood gazing into the medicine cabinet mirror while washing my hands I noted a mole on my chin.
"What the... Egads!" I think to myself. I grabbed up the super-duper magnifying mirror brother Jim says is scary because you can see stuff in and on your face you can't normally see just looking in a regular mirror.
"Lord, am I going to have a witch mole on my chin now?" I silently lament toward Heaven. "DOH! You goof-ball, it's chocolate!"
Wonder if that pan of fudge is ready to eat?
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