Blair spent almost all of Saturday upstairs at his desk, working. When he finally came downstairs, he announced he was walking to the corner store to buy some cereal.
"Can I get you anything?" he asked.
"Yes, M&M's. No, wait. Nothing."
"I don't need them. I'm sure."
Of course the minute he left the house, I regretted my decision. When I heard him come in the door I called out, "I decided I did want M&M's. You didn't by any chance read my mind?"
He set the grocery bag on the table. "No," he said. Then he disappeared into another part of the house and came back with M&M's. "But I can give you these."
"Secret stash!" I said. "You've been holding out on me, you excellent man."
But it didn't end there. The next day we went to the grocery store and I had my hand on some peanut-butter granola trail bars.
"I shouldn't," I said, hesitating. "I eat these like candy. Oh, what the heck." I started to throw them in the cart, but Blair stopped me.
"We've got some already," he said.
"Oat and honey or peanut butter bars?"
"What is going on?" I exclaimed. "Just where the heck are you hiding all this food and why?"
"Why?" said Blair. "I have to think of my own well-being, that's why. It's safer to have treats on hand."
So now I sit in this house, typing this, knowing that somewhere--somewhere--in the vicinity there is likely a whole stashed horde of my favorite treats. Blair has begged me not to look for it.
I'll try not to, but I'm really not in control here. We'll just have to wait and see how bad the chocolate cravings get.