Cookie-colored lenses

Yesterday I was so hungry I almost mistook a makeup sponge for a cookie. 

Yesterday I was so hungry I almost mistook a makeup sponge for a cookie. 

It was noon and I’d stayed out and up late the night before. Breakfast was long gone and I woke with a grumbling stomach. Coffee in bed – prepared and delivered not by me but FOR me – was divine and a fabulous way to start the last day of the year. As I accepted the extended mug, I contained my zeal but admit I did let an, ‘Oh my god,’ slip out, because coffee in bed is like a sixth lost love language.

(This is post one of a 31-day, 500-word writing challenge. In the span of publicly declaring on Facebook my commitment to the challenge and writing the above single line and paragraph, I have committed the following acts of procrastination: 

  1. Ran a word count. 96.
  2. Lit incense that I’ve not burnt in more than a year
  3. Put on a winter hat because it’s like a blanket for my head)

The coffee and company was great and although I bragged I wasn’t hungry, I needed to head home and get some food. And more coffee.

I usually avoid fast-food, but I was starving. Drive-through dark roast and what the hell, I won’t lie, a reheated bacon gouda hard roll went down easy but did not satiate. Was it ever there? Because suddenly it was gone. Maybe I’d eaten only half of it. I checked the paper bag.

But wait! What is this little delight I see peeking out from beneath my driving leg? A little gingerbread cookie? Isn’t that just the most darling thing ever. I’ve never known Starbucks to hand out free cookies. That barista must have had the holiday spirit too and felt my vibe back at her through the drive-up window and did a little pay-it-forward move, slipping a cute spicy molasses goodie in my bag. That book, ‘The Secret,’ was right – everything I need and want is here for the taking. So yeah, I’m gonna put you in my belly you bonus, surprise cookie. 

I picked it up. Negatory. Not a cookie. A brown makeup sponge. I must have dropped it on the seat the night before. But since I am also the person who once mistook a bowl of potpourri as snack mix, sure, I was bummed because I love cookies but I was also amused. I like knowing that I view the world through cookie-colored lenses. And grateful I’d had the good sense to not take a bite of a sponge.

sponge-5pk

I’m still a few words short of 500, so the following might well be considered filler:

I don’t know what tomorrow’s prompt is and if I’ll follow it, but I like thinking about what falsehoods our minds are capable of swallowing. If conditions were different – say, if I had thick gloves on – could I have convinced myself that that sponge was a cookie, far enough to get it to my lips? I’d like to think not, but my point is, what I am getting at is, if you want something badly enough, what will you convince yourself of? What can you make yourself believe?

 

Author: Stephanie G Hlavin

Join me as I put my crazy on the table. I encourage you to do the same.

2 thoughts on “Cookie-colored lenses”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s