A piece of macaroni slipped off my spoon and into my slipper tonight. Actually this morning. At 12:47 a.m. to be exact; after a Doha night of vodka-laden conversation with a Ukrainian/Dutch couple we know.
And so came about my first true failed resolution of 2015. Unless you count coffee consumption ... I don't think I managed a single day caffeine-free.
So my 8-week resolution to remain wheat-free? It lasted exactly 3 weeks by all accounts. Not that bad if you consider that I lasted 40% of my goal.
I'm crap at resolutions. I was doing so well this time around, though. Made Mac & Cheese for Kiddo on Monday and managed to resist the pull of the cheesy sauce and noodles left over in the fridge 'til today.
But tonight the half-cup of macaroni in the fridge got the best of me. Vodka brain convinced me that three days in the fridge would render the pasta glutenless and painless, and I sunk into the vat of gooey orange pasta goodness like there was no tomorrow.
Kiddo and Smlin' Vic were sleeping. I was virtually witness-free. I surrendered to the pasta beckoning from the fridge. As if in a trance, I heated it up in the microwave and proceeded to scarf it down.
Until I dropped a piece in my shoe and caught a mental image of what I might look like to a stranger walking into my kitchen.
A semi-successful, professional, occasionally refined middle-aged woman with a well-developed palate and a will of steel. Caught succumbing mind and body to boxed and processed Kraft Dinner.
Just goes to show a mouse can move an elephant.