C is for coma

Now that Cookie Monster has cut down on his cookie-eating habits, I feel compelled to stick up for him. After all, the Cookie Monster stands for pursuing your passion in life and focusing on your goals, which in his case, is cookies.

I'm thinking of asking our architect to design a place in the new building for a cow. Just one dairy cow. You see, it would solve our milk problems. Between us, Luis and I drink almost a half gallon of skim milk a day. What goes better with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich than a glass of ice cold milk? We go through milk so fast, invariably one of us has to call the other on the way home and ask him to pick some up. It's like taking turns to walk the dog. Most of the little stores in the neighborhood don't carry gallons, so we end up getting half gallons.

Saturday night when we got home from dinner, at about 10:30, I opened the fridge and picked up the milk carton. Barely a spoonful. I was too full and lazy to go out then, so I flopped down on the couch and started watching TV. Then I remembered that Luis has coffee first thing in the morning, and the remaining lactic droplets wouldn't satisfy his cafe con leche urges. So, at 1:00 a.m., I ran out to the all-night corner grocery to get a half gallon. Besides peanut butter and jelly, what goes better with a glass of milk than chocolate chip cookies? So I grabbed a bag of Pepperidge Farms Sausalitos. Just one cookie before bed, I reasoned.

When I got home I tore into the bag like a wolf and ate a cookie. My hand reached in and grabbed another...and another. On my sixth cookie I finally got around to looking at the bag and saw that each cookie had 140 calories. But it was too late. I had just eaten 840 calories at 1:00 in the morning. I got an immediate sugar buzz. The sugar coursed through my veins, and my temples pulsed. I felt queasy. Worse, I couldn't sleep.

I drank a glass of milk, hoping the tryptophan would put me to sleep, but the sugar high wouldn't subside. At around 3 a.m. I rolled into bed, comatose and groaning. See, if we had the cow, I wouldn't be tempted by the cookies. OK, so maybe the Cookie Monster's creators have a point. But maybe I'll still put out an ad for some Keebler elves to come live with us...