Pity Party of One, Please

Some days even an entire bar of Symphony chocolate doesn’t help.

Not for lack of trying, mind you.

I ate the first row to move past the constant pain in my lower gluteus region. The second went toward a HAZMAT-type situation regarding dirty dishes. The third disappeared sometime between telling children to sit back down at dinner and get back in the shower; you’re still soapy. I removed the fourth row of toffee-filled delight from the wrapper when the husband and I had a loud ‘discussion’ just before bed.

Problem is, I just found out that I wasn’t a finalist in a writing competition. I’d allowed myself to think I had a chance.

And there’s no fifth row of chocolate.

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