As I write this, I'm currently blasting my way through episodes of "Riverdale" and stuffing my face with a newly acquired package of Publix chocolate chip cookies. I've been hooked on "Riverdale" for a little over a week now, but the cookies haven't really been a problem since my boyfriend brought them over on Friday. He covered a shift or two for a sick coworker a week ago, and she brought cookies to thank him (and, apparently, me, for letting him cancel our plans to be a good person). He, in turn, brought them to me, because he knows how much I enjoy a good cookie.
This is where the trouble started. I've long adored cookies. It's a trait I inherited from my father. I love all sorts - raisin, white chocolate macadamia nut (ABSOLUTE FAVE OMG), sugar, any variation of holiday cookie (including, but not limited to Halloween, Christmas, Thanksgiving, Saint Patrick's day...you get the idea) - but I've always had a special place in my heart for chocolate chip. I have many fond memories of my brother and I begging mom to let us get the free ones from the Publix bakery, and more of my neighbor's godlike version with salt and nuts that have cooled to just the right cookie consistency. Not to mention my uncle's famous "big boy" cookies, so aptly named because of their sheer size and density and made with actual chunks of chocolate, not just the chips.
I even developed a passion for baking that stemmed from how much I love chocolate chip cookies. And not to brag, but (I'm totally bragging) they're amazing. I swear my love for them only grew in that act. (Pro tip: A little extra salt on the lumps of dough right before they go in the oven. Salt and chocolate? Am-a-zing!) But store-bought or dining hall feeds my addiction just the same.
I'm so addicted, I gave up cookies for Lent last year. It not only seemed to stretch on forever, but I swear I had more breakdowns about my lack of chocolate chip cookies than I did about school.
And holy cow, that package of slightly crushed cookies with the price tag ripped off is taunting me. It says, "Listen, Andie. You know we go SO well with "Riverdale" and sweatpants and tea and writing Odyssey articles and 64-degree weather."
I've already eaten three today (one with breakfast, sue me) and my skin is crawling with ants. I have a race on Saturday for rowing. I CANNOT ALLOW MYSELF TO GIVE IN, Y'ALL.
Hi, my name is Andie and I'm a chocolate chip cookie addict.
There. It's out in writing now. Bring on your judgment, world.