I have none.
That bag of chocolate and candies and chips that the little one brought back from trick-or-treating has tempted me far too many times. And for every fifteen moment of resistance, I am rewarded with one prolonged moment of failure.
It haunts me, that bag of those tiny chocolates. "Have some," they say in a nasally-gravelly Robert Evans-esque voice, "you'll like it."
"Of course I'll like it," I say, "but I'll like it too much. So no, I won't have any."
"Not no, yes" it replies ever so convincingly.
Damn it. Damn it ever so much.
I've lost track of my failures, but they're in the dozens over the past week, that much I can tell you.
Shame is awash over me.