Chocolate, How Great Is My Love For Thee?

This tin was full of assorted chocolate truffles when I bought it on Monday.  At 50% off, I might add.  Chocolate and a bargain — the perfect marriage.

This is what’s left today, a mere three days later.

One lone white chocolate truffle.  How sad.

I wish I could tell you that I had a lot of help eating these truffles.  But the truth is, I had very little help at all.  I did send all the hazelnut truffles in my husband’s lunch one day.  But that’s only because they’re the one kind I don’t like.

Lindt truffles are my very favorite chocolate treat.  I can’t pass by a store without buying a small bag.  (Or a large tin, evidently.)

I even have a system.  OCD much?

First I eat all the ones in the red wrappers.  Those are the milk chocolates.  My favorites. 

Then I eat all the ones in the orange wrappers.  Orange is peanut butter.  It’s sort of a toss-up as to which is my favorite, the peanut butter or the milk chocolate, but I always start with the red wrappers just the same. 

Then I go to the blue — the dark chocolates. 

Finally if there are any yellow wrappers (white chocolate) left, I will make do with those, but I’m not a huge white chocolate fan. 

But no matter how badly I’m craving chocolate, I do not eat the hazelnuts.  A girl’s gotta have some standards.

This afternoon my last dark chocolate truffle met a very unfortunate demise.  I was looking forward to treasuring every last morsel of the last of the "good chocolates". 

I carefully removed the blue wrapper from the candy.  I took the ball of chocolate goodness between my thumb and index finger, and then that slippery bugger jumped right out of my hand.  I tried to grab it but all I got was a fistful of air. 

It fell on the floor and began to roll towards the stove.  I dropped to the floor in a vain attempt to grab it before it disappeared beneath the oven.  Thinking I could easily retrieve it, I knelt down to find that my precious chocolate was not the only thing hiding under there.

It lay among a collection of crumbs and toys and dust bunnies that have no doubt been accumulating for the entire lifetime of this house, which is about five years.

As I knelt there on the floor, surveying the scene, I had a decision to make.  To what lengths am I willing to go for a piece of chocolate? 

Nope, not even a piece of Lindt dark chocolate is worth the task of cleaning under that stove.  So there it sits.

Now if it had been a milk chocolate, the outcome may have been very different.