Last night, when I got home from work and had removed my weary feet from my boots, I wanted chocolate. Just one. Just one awesome, good-quality, delicious, dark Haigh's chocolate.
So imagine my surprise when I went to my Haigh's chocolate hiding place (and don't ask me why I bother hiding it from myself when I know perfectly well where it is)...
...opened the drawer...
...took out the box...
and discovered that it was completely empty!!!
My first thought was "Grr. Grant ate my last three chocolates! And he left the box! WHO LEAVES AN EMPTY BOX BEHIND?!?!?" (Time will tell whether he's one of these folk who leave an empty milk carton in the fridge...) (Although, in his defence, I told him he could eat the third-from-last one... but not the other two!)
My second thought was "hmm, I was told that I sleeptalked last night, and also that I sat up in my sleep for no apparent reason. It is entirely possible that I actually ate those last two chocolates in my sleep, too..." (Sometimes I do some weird stuff in my sleep. What can I say - I'm a freak!)
My third thought was "If it wasn't me, then Grr to Grant for making me question whether I had eaten chocolate in my sleep. Seriously! He looks all sweet and charming and stuff (ahem. Possibly a slightly biased take on the situation...), but inside lurks a diabolical mastermind designed to question my very essence of being..."
And then I noticed something.
This is the bean bag where Grant sat, all sweet and charming and stuff, watching TV the previous evening.
And what's this, to the right of the bean bag (from the bean bag's perspective)???
A Haigh's wrapper!!!
@#$%^$%^#$!!!#$^%#@!#$%^*&^*(^$##!!!
HAH. It WAS him. I'm NOT a crazy sleep-eater after all!
"Sleep eating is a very serious, and delicious, medical condition." - Marshall Erkison, How I Met Your Mother.
Amen.
