THREE OF SIX

I ate the rest of the cookie dough this morning.

Yes, I did just say the REST of it, and no, there was certainly not enough to share. I convinced Katie in her cookie-making escapade to leave some (NOT ALL) of the dough for me since my mother encouraged taught by poor example when I was but a wee one that it was kinda okay to partake in the gooey goodness and I've since grown to prefer cookies in their raw, untamed form (See previous post: SHOWING RESTRAINT which I unfortunately cannot figure out how to link to).

The result of my morning binge was a tummy ache. And I know. It could have been much worse what with the rawness and the eggness all together like that but (knock on wood) I've yet to be made (seriously) ill by salmonella.

I'm not stupid. I know I shouldn't be shaking my big wooden spoon at those tiny little bacteria, taunting them like the playground bully, just daring them to rip me a new one. I don't want a new one. I'm perfectly content with the one I've already been given. But at the same time, I lack what some might refer to as will power. So while I spent today with a headache, stomach unease, and a little more girth to my hips, I can't QUITE bring myself to say it wasn't worth it.