The Girl Scout Cookie Incident.

Most of the “incidents” that occur in this household cast Brian as the main offender.  Every once in a while, however, the tables are turned and I wind up learning very valuable lessons.

Early in the first year of our marriage, Brian and I were still sorting and organizing a wonderful collection of gifts that had been bestowed on us newlyweds.  We had lamps and picture frames and kitchen gadgets and towels and all sorts of decor.  But one gift in particular intrigued me and I couldn’t wait to put it to good use.

We had been given a cookie jar.  This was no ordinary cookie jar.  No, this jar was clear and compartmentalized.  Though these were the days before I knew that I was a square piece, my obsession with the cookie compartments should have given me a clue.  With one compartment being the core in the center and the other four being positioned on the outer edge (wrapping around the core, like 12:00 – 3:00, 3:00 – 6:00, 6:00 – 9:00 and 9:00 – 12:00), I was delighted to be able to use one jar to display a variety of cookies.

Except we didn’t have a variety of regular cookies, like the hard ones that don’t mind being out of their packaging.  No, we had a variety of Girl Scout Cookies… the kind with chocolate coatings… the kind that apparently most people like to leave either packaged or refrigerated until the day of consumption.

Yes, unbeknownst to me, there is a cult-like following of Girl Scout Cookie lovers who have a regimented system that determines exactly how many boxes they order and exactly how those boxes are rationed throughout the year.

But being a mere twenty-one years old, at that point in my life I hadn’t yet been initiated into the Girl Scout Cookie Obsession Club.  No.  First of all, cookies never lasted that long in my presence and, second of all, that cookie jar was sOoOoOoOo cOoOoOoOooool!

So one afternoon while Brian was away, I got busy ripping open every box of Girl Scout Cookies that we owned.  Every.  Single.  One.  I joyfully sorted and organized each cookie utilizing the compartments of the cookie jar.  We had more cookies than space in the jar, so I had to cram a little to get the Thin Mints and the Tagalongs to fit, smearing chocolate down the clear sides.

When Brian arrived home, I proudly displayed all of my hard work and was confused to see his lack of appreciation.  See, I didn’t know that Brian was already in the club and had a particular way in which he managed his cookies.

Let’s just say that he might have briefly regretted marrying me that day.

Fortunately, I’m a quick learner and will never ever open a box of Girl Scout cookies ever again if we’re not ready to eat them that very same day.

… and I also got rid of the cookie jar.

Phew!  That was a close one.