The Advent of Chocolate

It is absolutely pouring with rain here. The stream we cross on the way to school every day has burst its banks and is now more of a torrent than anything else. Even I, who am a fully paid up umbrella shunner, due to the fact that I can destroy one with a single glance, borrowed Jason’s umbrella this morning. It is grim.

I am really hoping it lets up, as I am driving to Birmingham this evening to see Caitlin Moran and my car is not semi aquatic (or a platypus for Phineas and Ferb fans). I’m thinking dry thoughts.

I also have errands to run beforehand. Am I running them? Am I buggery.

I’m sitting swathed in my dressing gown, systematically decimating every window of an unopened Cadburys’ Advent Calendar I found in the utility room. It is the only thing keeping me from darkest despair. That and my third cup of coffee.

Finding chocolate that nobody else has nabbed is the Holy Grail in this house. I had a secret stash of chocolate once. Then Jason found out where it was, and since then I have had to move it time and time again. Now I have nowhere left to move it to, and I just watch in mute rage  as the emergency chocolate supply is raided away to nothing, and not by me. Inevitably, on the day I want it, I will open the cupboard to be faced by a lot of wrappers with nothing in.

This incenses me, by the way. I hate it when people empty packets, jars, wrappers etc and then put them back in the bloody cupboard.

God alone knows why the advent calendar hasn’t been hoovered up by now. I suspect it may be because it was in the utility room and going in there might mean one of them actually has to do a chore. This is useful information and something I am going to test out the next time I attempt to hide treats in the house.

 

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