The spirit is willing, but the flesh is hungry

Ahem. If the writing of this blog entry today seems somewhat strained, it is because the Gallant Hero is sitting right next to me as I type, so that, HE SAYS, he can work on another computer he is putting together for our church. For some reason not entirely explained to me, he must do this on my desk. Personally I think he is just trying to weasel some input into what I say about him. No matter. This writing will proceed just as if he were not --

"Don't believe anything she says!"

-- here.

Hmmm. This may not be so easy to ignore.

It might surprise you to know that the number one reason couples quarrel is NOT that one is Invading the Other's Computer Space. That, in fact, is number three, following Taking Over the Other's Napping Space at number two, at least in our house. Number one -- again, at least in our house -- is Raiding the Other's Food Territory.

Whereas Joe, when raiding my food territory, does so for his own benefit, I raid his only to give to others who may or may not be in need of excess calories, such as neighbors or people at work. You might say that I am the Robin Hood of this transgression. Leftover cookies, cake, bars -- all find a home elsewhere so that we are not tempted to consume it all ourselves.

Sometimes Joe actually encourages this. He is particularly generous with his extra portions of sweets when he wishes to lose some weight but does not wish to exercise to bring this about. We even made a pact, some time ago, that all leftover sweets I made would be donated. But the other night, the Food Territory Defense Reaction kicked in.

I had made fruit pizza, and after we had enjoyed a reasonable portion -- that is, reasonable if six of us had been eating it -- I informed Joe that I was going to take some of it to work, and he should tell me how much he wanted me to leave at home.

"What?" he said, alarmed. He even stopped typing at his computer.

"I said I'm taking some to work. You always say you don't want it around."

He shook his head almost violently, and I thought for a minute that he would try to keep the fruit pizza by force.

"You want to keep it all," I said.

He nodded eagerly, although he seemed to realize that he should present some justification for going against our agreement. "Well, it's kind of good for you, right? I mean, it's got fruit."

Fruit. Right. Never mind the butter, and sugar, and cream cheese...

And they say men never focus on the details.

His resolve being what it was, my attempt at a Food Raid ended unsuccessfully. Oh, well. My co-workers' loss is definitely our gain.