When I was very young, maybe two, I ate an entire basket of chocolate on Easter. Although I don’t remember doing it, I honestly believe that on that day I had consumed 95% of my lifetime’s ration of chocolate. I would say on average that I’ll eat a tiny chocolate bar or snack on some chocolate ice cream once every 3 months or so.

In Las Vegas there was an office at the conference which seconded as a candy store. My boss Sallie had gone for a demo on their software only to come back with twenty chocolate bars wrapped in the company’s logo. After one of their company executives came over for a massage he promptly returned with 60 more chocolate bars. Excess.

I think because I was a little bored that day I ate one of the twenty chocolate bars… paired with a Diet Coke. The massage therapist told me I was poisoning my body. I assured her calmly that I hardly ever have either substance, and that I was no means at risk for over exposing my digestive system to sugar or artificial sweetener. If there is anything I should be worried about it is my obsession with salt.

Yesterday at work, not even a week after Vegas, Ann came by eating a piece of chocolate, and I needed a piece. She had gotten it from her boss’s office. At the moment, her boss was in a meeting. Without asking I ran to her office and started fishing through her shelves for hazelnut chocolate. Thankfully, she had been ordering samples of chocolate over the course of several weeks (as possibilities for inventory in the company’s online store… think spa certificate enhanced the “gift” with chocolates). I’d prefer a salt scrub. But anyway, the chocolate supply was ample and I quickly snatched three small round pieces of chocolate and shimmied back to my desk.

I don’t even remember eating the chocolate but when re-telling the story to a friend I used the phrase “I stole chocolate from an executive’s office” which, really, is a bit out of character for me. But so is gambling by myself at Caesar’s Palace.