Do you have times you do something, feel guilty about it, and then realize “Hey, I can do that, I’m an adult.”

Since I am now semi-retired with a bit more down time than I had when I was teaching school, I find myself puttering around and getting more daily tasks done. Even when I have the whole day ahead of me, it’s amazing how much I don’t get done, though.

The other day, I had several things to do in the garage. My list is ambitious, as if I’m going to hit it hard and never take a rest. I often end up with the same list that evening, only a couple items crossed off – if that. I usually have a coffee cup to nurse or a big cup of water with me, thinking that will be enough to sustain me.

Sometimes, if I get up really early in the morning, I just grab coffee and get started on things, especially if I have some big project to do. No breakfast. This particular day, I was going to deep clean one of the cars, so I jumped in with gusto, gulping water and coffee as I went.

Pretty soon, it was time to head to the store for some things, and I made the mistake of going to the aisle where they have cheap packages of cookies. A mid-morning cookie seemed to make sense, and I tore into the package when I pulled back in the garage. I had a second cookie a little while later.  Then, around lunch time, as I dove even deeper into my car care plan, I thought I could postpone lunch if I had another cookie. By early afternoon, I thought I could make it to dinner if I had another cookie. 

I probably had one or two others somewhere in there.

As I finished cleaning the car windows, I also finished the entire package of lemon cookies.

I had eaten eight cookies.

When I realized I’d eaten an entire package of cookies, I felt like I’d done something terrible. I stood there, stunned for a minute.  How had I eaten all the cookies without realizing I was eating all the cookies?  I felt a little dirty. I felt like surely someone would pull up in the driveway with brakes screeching to chastise or reprimand me.  

Wouldn’t there be some type of dessert police intervention?

But then I had one of those moments and realized I’m an adult. I don’t have anyone telling me not to do something like eating an entire package of cookies.

I mean, how often does someone do such things? I’d keep it a secret.

So, folks, I kid you not, I repeated the same thing about three months later.  This time, I was working on the grill out back and some of the landscaping.  This time, the package of cookies was already in the pantry, unopened, and really quite tempting.  I could have stopped and made a sandwich. I could have warmed up some soup or even had some cheese and crackers. Shoot, I could have gotten my lazy butt up and made some breakfast. 

But this package of cookies was there.  

I opened the package very carefully and slipped two cookies out. That’s all I planned to eat. I placed the cookie package on the patio table and wrapped it up in a napkin, as if the napkin was some sort of impenetrable force field. I was still armed with my big cup of water and some coffee.

Once again, it made sense to have just one more.  Then again, it made sense to ward off lunch-time hunger. The terrible pattern continued until I had all of the landscaping projects completed and the grill in working order – and another empty package of cookies.

But this time, I only polished off six. I felt that I had surely gained 10-15 pounds.

And once again, no one yelled at me or told me I shouldn’t do things like that. I went in and got the dog leashes, taking both the small dog and the large maniac dog on a walk.  

I took them on a walk together – something no one in the house ever does.  You can’t really walk both dogs without risking bodily injury.  

But maybe I was punishing myself. I ended up walking them both a lot longer than usual, and by the time we all made it back home, it was a race to see who could make it to the water bowl and flop on the living room floor the fastest.

Still no one got onto me about eating the cookies and not one person said “Where is that package of cookies?”

I’ve toyed, in moments of weakness, with telling Michelle I’ve committed such a sin. Not once, but twice. Sin times two.

She never reads this column, so one of you will have to blow the whistle on me.

Go ahead, maybe it will make me feel better to confess.