I love cinnamon gum. Cinnamon gum does not love me back. I know this, yet every once in a while I cave into the love of it and buy a pack, thinking that surely one piece will be all right. I’ll just put the rest in my desk drawer, and a week from now I can chew another piece.
One piece. My freaking tongue is now on fire. One piece of cinnamon gum and I burned my damned tongue, and now brushing my teeth hurts like a mother, and if I eat anything hot… It.Will.Hurt.
What sucks the most is that when I had the pack of gum in my hand at the checkout the Spouse Thingy asked if I really wanted to do that. “You know what will happen.”
One damned piece.
I freaking hate it when he’s right.