This morning I celebrated my return to the office with the creamy, nutty wonderfulness that is Ferrero Rocher.
It does not mean "feral roach," as my husband tried to convince me. That was an attempt on his part to get me to stop eating the little goodies and leave some for him. Do not be fooled by such lies.
So I left home with an apple, an orange, a Luna bar, a mug of coffee, and three beautiful, gold-wrapped Ferrero Rocher from the gift box given to us by a close friend. These would be compensation for each of the healthy foods I planned to eat throughout the day. These would help ease the transition from holiday binging back to healthful, sensible eating. They would make me forget that I am but one of a few stragglers left in my office without any remaining vacation time to take during this three-day work span sandwiched between two four-day weekends.
Nestled snug within my purse, they assured me that they would hold my hand through this unpleasant Monday. At periodic intervals, they would emerge and reward my perseverance with soothing chocolate.
It is 9:17 a.m. and I have eaten them.
And the Luna bar is growing uncomfortable with the way I keep feeling its wrapper to discern whether it contains a chocolate-like coating.