The tale of the missing Matchmaker

 

As some of you may be aware, I’ve got a slight problem with mint chocolate… mostly in the form of Mint Matchmakers. When I say slight, it’s pretty major actually. I can devour a box in approximately 30 minutes flat, and that is with me exercising a certain degree of restraint. After Eights – 70 minutes, followed by a very brief period of shame at the fact that I’ve consumed an average of 1300 calories. By myself. Mint Aero Bubbles, well Kobe barely gets one bubble before they’re inhaled. Pretty much anything in minted chocolate form is a goer for me…

I was in Sainsburys the other day, and despite putting myself on a mint chocolate ban until the week before Christmas I buckled at the mere sniff of the Matchmakers down the Christmas aisle and I took it as a sign that the notion of putting myself on a ban was absolute stupidity and bought 3 boxes. They were only £1, it would have been criminal not to.

Driving home I realised this was a touch indulgent and if left to my own devices it was quite likely Kobe would come home to find me in a mint chocolate stupor.

Taking my receipt and returning the chocolate wasn’t an option – I’m unsure this would even be accepted, even if they were still in there wrappers. So it got me thinking about how I could manage this predicament.

There’s a game that I like to play which makes food shopping slightly more tolerable. In that, I buy things I know Kobe will like to eat – wine, chocolate, bourbon biscuits – and then when I get home I hide them. The bread bin, behind the bananas, the cleaning cupboard, the washing machine – you know, places he frequent’s often. Then when he returns home, he usually notices I’ve been shopping and I inform him that there are goodies in the house… which he can have if he finds them. Tedious and slightly childish but it can brighten up a dull day when faced with a child that deems a nap to be a complete waste of time.

I therefore thought in order for me to avoid demolishing all 3 boxes of matchmakers in one go, that I would assign Kobe the task of hiding said chocolate and that I was only allowed to have them when it seemed like I really NEEDED them… It genuinely seemed like a good idea at the time.

Now I take pride in my memory, I tend to remember very minor details… such as the time I picked a bit of wax out my ear when I was 8 and horrified myself at the thought that I’d just plucked out my own ear drum and feared that I would be deaf forever more – clear as day. I also remember where I put all Kobe’s treats, so in the event that he really NEEDS them I can retrieve them with swift efficiency.

Apparently Kobe doesn’t share that trait of mine. Which has resulted in 2 boxes being aptly distributed and the third is MIA. He literally has no idea where he has put it, genuinely. Naturally, I have searched every crevice of the house, a bit like a sniffer dog at the airport but to no avail and I’ve come to the ¬†dark realisation that mint chocolate is pretty much my version of crack; I literally can’t live without the stuff and fear some form of post Christmas rehab is going to be required.

Obviously I went and bought myself another bag of Matchmakers. Bar a toilet break, I pretty much nailed them in under 15 minutes.

So Kobe, if you read this… I’m on to you. This has not gone unnoticed. Sleep with one eye open, because there’s some mighty fine bananas on top of the microwave and they’ve got your name on them.

 

 

 

 

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