Being Good

So I went to Target to get some chamomile tea to help my son sleep. When I walk in the store, I have to walk past a little in-store Pizza Hut they have on premises. That's where I almost got in trouble.

I am gluten sensitive, which means that things made with wheat tend to make me sluggish, sleepy, and stupid. It also doesn't do wonders for my writing production. So cool things like hamburgers, chili dogs, submarine sandwiches, and Italian food just don't exist in my world. I have gone a long way towards striking them from my mind and not seeing them when I chance upon them.

Today, that didn't work so well.

I was walking past that little in-store pizzaria, when I became aware of pizza. And I mean AWARE of pizza. Suddenly, the joys of melted mozzarella acting as a luscious bed for spicy pepperoni came crowding back into my mind in memories enhanced by long forgotten sensations of taste. I stopped at the door, and literally had to fight not to drool at the sight of their little pizza display. I wanted that pizza. I needed that pizza. My mind started negotiating with my wavering willpower for that pizza. It made promises of "only once," and "a little won't hurt anything," and "at the worst you go two or three days without writing...at the worst."

Not since I quit smoking six years ago, have I ever had a crisis of will like I did then.

And I prevailed.

Yes, dear reader, I struggled and fought with my inner oregano-fortified demons and managed to slowly turn away from that den of temptation...ever so slowly, like a zombie from a Romero flick...and shamble away. It was a very emotional moment, for it was a victory that tasted of ashes...when defeat would have tasted of glorious pizza. After getting the tea, I left by the far exit of the store to avoid walking past the place again,  and took the long walk to my car in the parking lot.

I was bloodied, but the battle had been won. Tomorrow the hearts of men may fail, but it wasn't on this day. Not this one.

Oh well, back to writing.