this devil's workday

I hate girl scouts. There. I've said it. You all agree, you just won't admit it. They are the devil's children, standing in front of the grocery store. You know they're there as you pull up and park. As you get out of your car, you tell yourself that you can stand up to them this time. That you still have a box left at home. That you're trying to not gain ten pounds while your shoulder heals. And you can avoid them on the way in, but on the way out – that's when they get you. Before you even know what's going on, they've worked their black magic and you’ve got another three boxes of those delicious devil cookies.

And three hours later, as you sit at your desk and realize that half a box of Double Dutch is gone (and no one's even come to your cube to help), you curse them with your mouth full of chocolatey goodness.

I've said it before. I’m weak.