Regrettable Product Placement

I've become one of those people who the longer you know them, the more frequently you ask yourself how they get through the day without hurting themselves or others.

My first mistake of the evening was letting Sophia bake another cake while I’m trying to break my lifelong addiction to sugar. And you do realize it will be MathMan and me eating that cake, right? Because the children like to make food, they aren’t always so keen on consuming it. Not that that doesn’t make me question the wisdom of eating it, but clearly it's not enough to keep me from cutting a slice and inhaling it alone so no one has to see me and my food shame up close. I just sit and shovel that guilt-covered cake into my mouth and hope there’s no cat hair or spit or butter wrapper waiting inside like a nasty little surprise.  

Sophie was just mixing the frosting when the hooligans from across the street burst through the front door and demanded she join them in the pool.  I credit her with finishing her task although she left the table and mixer covered in a dusting of confectioner’s sugar and a sink full of dishes.

While MathMan wiped down the mixer and table, I put on my martyr apron and shifted things around in the sink. The measuring cup was slick with Crisco. What a pain that is to get clean. I ran really hot water and hoped that it would melt the stuff. Figuring I’d wait a little bit before actually washing the dishes, I squirted some Palmolive soap into my palm, did my best to scrub off the greasy residue, rinsed and went back upstairs to finish some writing that had been rudely interrupted by some nonsense or other. 

I noticed a small dollop of white stuff on my hand. Thinking it was some of that Crisco I didn’t clean off, I did what any person would do.

I licked my hand.

Set aside for a moment the utter disgust you're feeling because I just admitted to licking solid fat off my hand.  I was punished enough for my poor judgment.

Palmolive soap still doesn’t taste good. After all these years and all that alcohol and casual sex and therapy employed in a failed attempt to forget the taste of Palmolive administered as a deterrent to cursing, there it was once again assaulting my tongue with its tang.

"Fuck!"

It still doesn't work as a deterrent.