So, I'm Mormon. It's a well-known facts that Mormons don't drink alcohol. Nope, not even a little bit.
I'll be honest, though. There's many a day when I wouldn't kick a big ol' tumbler of something intoxicating out of bed for eating crackers. Days when the destroying angels...errr...kids are acting up and tearing the house apart. Days when I'm exhausted and unmotivated and the kitchen floor sticks to my socks*. Days when all I really want to do is to (please, please, oh pretty please) take the edge off.
What's a sober girl to do?
I turn to my dirty little secret: s.u.g.a.r. I loooove me some candy. I'm especially fond of the straight-sugar types (nerds, sprees, smarties, gummy bears, etc.) to get me right to the sugary goodness point. If I'm feeling particularly picked on, like during one of the 6-potty accidents type of days, I might steal one of my husbands forgotten mini-snickers (the man can resist the siren call of candy like no one else and I can't quite ignore the guilt enough to just straight-up steal 'em right off the bat).
So, next time you see me with a shot glass of full of jelly beans in front of me mid-afternoon when the rest of the world is indulging in a much-anticipated happy hour, you'll know why (although, more realistically, it'll be hidden behind some book or other so I can enjoy it without the miniature mob joining in). In fact, you're more then welcome to join me and we'll get a little sugar-happy together.
Until then, hit me again, Joe. This one needs to be hard, on the rocks, straight up, and any other unfamiliar alcohol slang one can think of.
Your turn...what's your secret mid-afternoon "I can't take these hellions anymore" indulgence?
*little known fact: I actually hate wearing socks around the house. So...the floor would then be gross enough to stick to my feet, which is even more extraordinarily disgusting.