Foresight, Dammit.

Before we went to the Rockton Fair, I started to get a serious hankering for fudge. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Talking about it. Exclaiming in email that I was BUYING! FUDGE! AT! THE! FAIR! In all of my daydreams, it was the orange-cream fudge that I was fantasizing about. I could picture it and almost taste it. Mmmmmm.

And yet, when we arrived at the fair, and I bought my three-for-ten-dollars chunks of fudge, I only bought ONE chunk of orange-cream. (And one mint-chocolate and one caramel-chocolate, too.)

I regret that. I should have just thrown caution to the wind and bought three chunks of orange-cream and not tried to convince myself that I “might get sick of it”. After a solid MONTH of craving it, I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER. These mint-chocolate-caramel-chocolate substitutions do not cut it. At all. I’m only eating them to stop myself from putting the remnants of the orange-cream in my mouth and overdosing on sugar.

Y’know what the worst part is? There’s really no opportunity for me to buy orange-cream fudge again until NEXT OCTOBER. Sure I could just, like, whip out my credit card here at what I imagine would be the Happiest Place on Earth, but I’m not sure I could stop with the orange cream and not move on to the harder stuff, like Cherry-Almond-Chocolate-Swirl.

I weep for my own stupidity. Oh, the weeping.