Last night Jon was in a bit of a fender bender on the freeway wherein he rear-ended this other car that rear-ended another car and now my little black Honda looks like a raccoon that fell from a tree and landed flat on its face. Thank God Jon is okay, and thank God I had bought cookie dough earlier in the day that had chocolate chips and caramel all mixed in. Jon loves caramel and I love anything that can be shoved into my mouth and digested.

So we celebrated Jon’s health with a huge plate of caramel chocolate chip cookies, and they oozed and melted and were SO FUCKING GOOD. And as I was taking the leftovers (very few of them) from the living room to the kitchen I dropped one on the coffee table, and faster than I could realize that one had actually fallen from the plate a furry beast LEPT UPON THE SACRAMENT FOODSTUFFS and consumed the cookie in one giant snarf. A whole cookie.

Normally I would have been upset, and I would have put another cookie on the table and hit it in front of the perpetrator and shouted, “NO! NO! NO!” but that would have been insane, me hitting a cookie to prove a point, so I just ate it. Because last night my family was intact. That, and I knew Jon would be the one to take Chuck out this morning for his caramel cookie poop.