I have something to confess, I suffer from a dangerous addiction. The effects are debilitating, it causes fights between Husband and myself, and I just can’t seem to stop it. It’s awful, but I seem to fall into it every time it is available to me. It is called Hermits, and I love it as much as I love Cat, which you know means more than it should.
Okay, so Hermits are cookies. Molasses cookies. With walnuts… and raisins. They are addicting as shit. Seriously. And Husband hates them, of course. I’ve always been fond of molasses cookies, but I’m from Georgia, as a rule, molasses cookies weren’t really on the table as a viable option. You can find the cheapies in stores, but they are often so sugared that they rip your throat up.
Husband’s Mom was my first provider, but I’ve since learned how to bake them up myself, and though mine never turn out quite right (always a bit underdone. always.), they are still delicious as hell. The thing is, MIL doesn’t like them, either, so she bakes them under duress because her husband loves them as deeply as I do.
Last night, FIL decided to bake some up to take to his ailing father to help cheer him up, so now there are dozens of them sitting in the kitchen unattended. I keep forgetting they are out there, and then succumbing to temptation all over again. I’ve been able to curb myself to only four in the last four hours, but I’m literally trying to hide right now so that I don’t have the urge to steal them all.
Damn, cookie monster’s got nothing on me right now!