In search of the peanut butter center.

I am, finally, thankfully, home. My last appointment today was supposed to end at six. My six cancelled, then my seven from yesterday who cancelled called, and I rescheduled them to three today. Then they called and rescheduled to five tonight. That appointment, with a very, very angry thirteen-year-old boy, lasted until seven, and I didn't get out of the office until right before eight. Gah. It was a very worthwhile, yet absolutely exhausting session. Stick a fork in me, I'm done.

I drove home in the pouring rain (I know, I thought I heard Sting singing in my head, too), listening to "Vienna," eagerly awaiting an evening of blogdoggery and relaxation. There were so many idiots on the road (because we all know rain + cars = idiots who think they can haul ass), but thankfully, I got home in one piece. I sat down with a huge iced tea and a half-empty bag of peanut butter M&M's, ready to create.

I proceeded to eat a few M&M's in my usual manner: for peanut butter and crispy, I eat the chocolate surrounding the center, then eat the center. For some reason, I find it important to clear the centers of any trace of chocolate before eating them. And I wouldn't eat the centers right away; I'd wait until I was almost finished with the chocolate, then eat the middles.

Well, I sat there, checking my e-mail and whatnot, with some peanut butter centers in one hand, then, *poof*... my hand was empty. And wet. I looked down at my hand, and saw, just behind it, the following:


Caught!

That little brat ate the peanut butter centers out of my friggin' hand. Then she tried to look cute. Even came up to lie down on the floor next to my chair and put her head on my foot. Funny, but it worked: I couldn't bring myself to scold her.

I know. I'm a pushover.