For nonjudgers only.

I like free food. A lot. To the point where I'm seriously contemplating having Jacob and I attend my current stake's institute after we're married just for the free dinner they serve afterward. (I have not yet mentioned this to him. But I'm sure if I flash my winningest (read: cheesiest) smile at him, he'll agree to it. Especially if I end up serving cereal for dinner three nights a week.)

But I think my love of free food has escalated to an unhealthy level. Allow me to explain:

Today I got my grubby little hands on a free brownie outside of the Wilkinson Center. I walked inside the Wilk because I had to mail something off, and I was trying to juggle the brownie, my sandwich, and a flier all at the same time.

In case you weren't aware, I'm not really one for jugglin'.

Before I knew it, the brownie tumbled out of my hands onto the floor. I hurriedly scooped up the brownie, peeled the frosting off the tile (it had fallen off the brownie in the snafus), and quickened my pace to escape the scene of the crime.

And then when I had walked about ten feet away, I shoveled the whole mass of chocolate into my mouth. I feel no shame. (C'mon, tell me you didn't see that coming.)

And that's why I shouldn't be allowed to have children.

"I'm making a hexagon!" -- Heather

Me: I'd like to announce that this is the second night in a row I'm not eating cereal for dinner.

Roommates: [quite literally burst into cheers and applause]

Me: Last night I made soup!

Roommate: What are you eating now?

Me: A burrito.

Roommate: You're going to be the best wife ever.