Katie's prodding has led to most of the recent (ha!) entries; this, I'm afraid is no different. Someday I'll learn, and then Katie, and Ma, and Pa, and everyone—everyone!—will be so proud of me. I'll then be able to look back on my experiences—the troubled beginnings, the slow realization that writing begets more writing, and the triumphant conclusion of a blog free of cobwebs and dust.

But today, Snickers are on my mind. You see, we have a salad bowl full of candy sitting out (I believe this is considered optimal usage of the bowl). It started by piling our Christmas stocking candy together, then adding bags of mini holiday Snickers (somehow smaller than the mini-size) and Nestle Holiday Chocolate Bells to the mix. Then, while looking for blue cellophane, Stu noticed that post-Christmas price on these mini holiday Snickers was sensationally low. So begins Snicker escalation.

I see it playing out as follows. One afternoon I'll surreptitiously slip a mini-size Snickers or two in the bowl. James will notice, and, not wanting to be outdone, will supply the bowl with an entire bag of the candies.

This, however, is not enough. He will then purchase two boxes of standard-size Snickers, and when the bowl of now-mini size Snickers has fallen to unacceptable levels, he will triumphantly rip open the box of normal Snickers and cackle while the contents of the bowl spill over—it was never meant to contain this many Snickers, and of such size!

But the dance is not done. For I have, in the meantime, anticipated this move, and obtain two boxes of King Size Snickers bars. Casting aside all notions of caution and sensibility, I add every Snicker I've got to the pile, which has long escaped the salad bowl, and is a veritable swimming pool of packaged chocolate, peanut, nougat, and caramel. James and I feast, and when Stu returns, we lie dazed, covered in chocolate flakes, on the floor. A chocolatey afterglow; we are finished (and likely close to death); the escalation has come to a sighing stop.