Today I walked into the faculty lounge to find a lone cupcake with wet brown icing, orange sprinkles and a Halloween themed wrapper staring me directly in the face. I was alone, and as I looked at the singular cupcake resting in the abyss of the table, I thought of many things. I felt guilt for wanting to have it, when there would be no more. I felt excitement in the possibility that I COULD have it. I felt curiosity about its taste and consistency. Mostly, I felt the desire to give in to my excitement and curiosity. In the end, I took it and made my way quickly out of the lounge in an effort to avoid being seen alone, eating the cupcake in the faculty lounge. What if the bearer of the cupcakes saw me being so callous towards my co-workers? What if a colleague saw me stuffing it into my face? (embarrassing) What if it wasn't for anyone at all, but a gift left behind?
As I made my way to the elevator, my mind was flooded with a memory long repressed. I remembered facing a similar dilemma while in Maine. That time, I walked down to the secretary's office and found three plates of cookies displaying their cargo with a welcoming arrangement. No one was around to acquaint me with the cookies, and so I decided to sample each. I walked quickly back to my office, where I consumed them as I surfed the internet, taking note of a particularly greasy/dense one. A few hours later, I went back to the secretary's office in an attempt to deftly swoop up another round (no one saw me eat the first ones! Gaming the system!). While chatting with the secretary, she excitedly told me about her culinary creations, including the greasy and dense one that was created for the sole purpose of getting rid of old deer meat. Sometimes I really miss Maine.
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