Okay, confession time.  Tonight, at dinner, I wanted just one thing.  One thing only:  pizza.  Greasy hot, nasty, takeout pizza.  Unhealthy and oh so much.  That’s all I wanted.

I had a clear path.  All Charlene had said as she headed off to her meeting was “You will have to feed the boys tonight.”  Ah, the path was clear for gluttony.  Bring it on!

Then came what I was expecting.  Then came what was in the cards.  Then came my check on pure diet disobedience.  Further spousal guidance, “We have stuff to make sandwiches or you could make soup.”  Dammit!  Goodbye, dear pizza.  Begone.  No more wishes of your forbidden cheese.  I must move on.

Ah, my heart aches, for as Tennyson once said, “‘Tis better to have tasted greasy cardiac assaulting pizza and lost than never to have tasted at all.”  Well said, Lord Tennyson.  Well said.