Entry 663: Cookie Monster

As a special reward for being a loyal reader of this blog, I’d like to invite you over to our home for some cookies.

I’m making this one-time offer because my household seems to be experiencing a slight overstock situation of the type not seen since the great coffee filter debacle of 2009.

In case you haven’t heard about that because of your deficient knowledge of history (and also because it only happened to my wife), that was when my darling Barbara placed an order for 10 packs of Cuisinart Replacement Charcoal Water Filters for our Cuisinart Coffee Maker. These are not the paper filters you put the actual coffee in, but, rather, the small pouches that go into the coffee machine equivalent of a dipstick to filter the water before it runs through the coffee, or something like that.

Anyway, she ordered 10 packs of these things because that was the minimum order, and there was a small accounting mistake at Cuisinart wherein someone not only added a bunch of zeroes, but evidently a comma, so that one day the UPS guy showed up and began unloading these huge boxes, each of which contained, I think, 2,000 packs of filters, and he kept unloading and unloading until they filled our entryway, and then he continued to unload, just putting them on the pathway in front of the house so that it looked like the outside of an Apple store the day a new iPhone is released, and when the dust cleared there were 50 boxes, and if you do the math, that’s 100,000 packs of filters. And each pack had two filters.

You’re supposed to change the filter every 60 days, so we now literally had enough filters to last about 30,000 years (give or take a millennium or two), which was a colossal problem because climate change scientists were estimating that coffee may be extinct by 2080. So Barb called Cuisinart, which admitted that it may have made not one but two mistakes, first because someone should have recognized the obvious data entry error, and second because, if Barbara really had wanted that many boxes of filters, someone should have staged an intervention.

The boxes were picked up the next day.

But I was talking about cookies.

While we do not possess 100,000 boxes of cookies, we do have many more than is appropriate for a household of three people, none of whom are children. This overabundance of baked goods is the result of the annual onslaught of cute young girls extorting friends, family and neighbors to purchase Girl Scout cookies. In our case, the cookie monster was Barbara’s second cousin once removed– a 6-year old who called Barbara with her sales pitch…via FaceTime!

This new sales technique must be much more effective than older methods, because Barbara apparently found it to be more difficult to limit her purchase when confronted by an adorable little face.

The order began with only a couple of boxes. “But grandma bought five boxes,” the girl said, causing Barb to do some quick relation calculations and somehow conclude that, if grandma is worth five, a removed second cousin is worth four.

The same elementary school entrepreneur then proceeded to FaceTime Barbara’s younger sister Karen, who fell victim to the same grandmother-infested pitch, and did the same calculation, and, due to what I guess is a standardized measurement, arrived at the same result. So she bought four boxes, too, even though–and I feel that this is a critical point–Karen is currently living with us while her house is being remodeled.

So now all eight boxes of cookies are residing in our home. I know that doesn’t sound like a lot, but, remember, it’s just the three of us grownups here, and one of them–me–definitely does not need so much deliciousness within easy reach. (They are in easy reach because Barbara seemingly has neither the willpower nor the storage space to hide the damn things, and they’re right out there in the open on the kitchen counter yelling “EAT ME!” every time I walk by.)

And that is why I am inviting you, dear reader, to come help us consume these cookies. Please partake of our Thin Mints® and Samoas®. Allow us to share our Savannah Smiles® and S’mores™. Taste our Trefoils® and love our Lemonades.™

Come. Enjoy. We’ll even provide the milk.

See you soon (I hope).

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