One of the most handy and loving things Mark does for me is fill the role of Custodian of the Chocolate. We buy a whole bag of, say, Lindor Truffles. We eat a precious few as a date-night snack. Then Mark hides the remainder somewhere. This way, I don't eat them all the next morning as soon as he leaves for work, and the next time we have a moment for a bit of shared indulgence, he pulls them out. If I'm truly desperate I can call him at work to divulge the location, or just root around our closet until I find them. Available but hidden. It's wonderful.
Yesterday, however, our elegant system was disrupted when I found a bag of hazelnut truffles on a shoe shelf in my closet. My shoe shelf is actually a much cleverer hiding place than it may first seem. I think that bag had been there for weeks. As you know, I have issues with putting away shoes. At this moment, there are no less than six pairs of my shoes in corners of this room. Which is strange since I've worn the same pair every day this week. (And stranger still since the occasion of my finding the truffles was me putting shoes away. Seriously, where did all these shoes come from?)
When Mark came home last night, I notified him of my find in the closet. I proudly told him that the truffles remained in place--I hadn't even touched them. He said, "I don't believe it."
Well, it was true. But that lackadaisical Custodian of Chocolate did not take the opportunity to re-hide the cache.
And now the truffles are all gone.
* This post brought to you by Betsy's morning nap.