Why I Ate All the Chocolate Before We Left

While Laura's dutifully making lists and organizing our affairs before we depart, I'm taking care of far more important things.

You see, every time I'm about to leave on a big trip, I worry about what will happen if get killed while I'm away travelling.

And yes, intellectually, I know the odds of my getting killed (by someone other than Laura), are infinitesimally small. Particularly on the first leg of our travels. I mean, we're going to New Zealand, and people are so nice there. I mean, except for Sauron.

But you never know. And we've got this big stash of dark chocolate here left over from last fall's trip to Belgium. And there's quite a bit of ice cream in the freezer. If I got killed by a wallaby with all of these goodies sitting uneaten back home, I'd be pissed.

So over the past week, I've been running around our apartment, peering into cupboards and cabinets, looking for anything, anything, that I'll be angry I didn't eat if I never made it back home.

After all, you know the saying: "Let us eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we diet."