I ate a brownie.
Not just any brownie. The brownie I ate was one of the forbidden brownies brought to my house by well meaning people in order that my husband may transport them up to girl's camp for "Bishopric Dinner Night" this evening.
My position is precarious. I have six DOZEN evil, fragrant, fudgy brownies taunting me. Mocking me. I think I may even hear voices. "Eat me.... EAT ME!"
Is there some "Brownie Hotline" I can call to talk me down from the ledge? There's not, you say? Well, there should be, dangit. Suicidal people ain't got nothin' over this problem.
Those ungrateful girls certainly won't miss one. Or two. Will they? I choose to think of it as saving one of them from the corruption. My magnanimosity amazes even me.
I probably should feel guilty about this.