Earlier this week, I bought a bag of candy corn at the drug store and put it in a desk drawer at work.
Every morning, I forget that it is there. Then, at some point a few hours into the day, I open the drawer looking for a highlighter or some white-out or stamps, and voila! Someone has sent me a secret surprise! Delighted, I grab a handful and shut the drawer.
A minute later, this time with no pretense of needing the white-out, I open the drawer and grab another handful of artificially colored, sugary goodness (which, by the way, claims to be “made with real honey!”). Perhaps 45 seconds later, it happens again, this time unconsciously. Open, shut, chew. Open, shut, chew. I am compelled - I can’t stop - MUST HAVE CANDY CORN!
Ten or fifteen minutes into this routine, I choke on a piece of candy corn that, in my manic haste to pump corn syrup and yellow #5 into my blood stream, goes down the wrong way. I pause, take a few long sips of water, and breathe. My body has saved itself from near-death by tiny triangular confection bullet.
In that instant, self control is restored. The mind is back on top; all animal appetites are at least tentatively subdued. I go on with my day. The drawer stays closed, and all traces of yellow-orange-and-white striped thought vanish from my brain.
