So I’ll admit it. I don’t know how to suffer anymore. I’ve made some good choices along the way. But then we were sort of out of food. No big deal, make my self a sandwich. Get to work, put it it the fridge. Forget that it’s there, OR maybe I make myself forget it’s there because I don’t want anther crappy turkey sandwich. I roll to Publix because I love it there. As I make my way to the salad cooler, I’m mesmerized by the rhythmic sound of spatulas on the grille top. I snap my head to see dude working up a Philly. Damn, in one short sigh I knew I’d be cheating. I wanted it even more because dude was taking forever after I ordered mine. I was trying to act all cool looking for a place to stand and ended up pacing back and forth. Finally it’s wrapped and I’m off. Ate half of it in the parking lot. Ate a quarter of it driving back to work. Feeling pretty crappy now, but not bad enough to throw away this Hersey bar.