Confession

 I have sinned.

As I read these three  words I have just now written I recognize that they are simplistically naive and redundant

For when have I ever NOT sinned?

Which demands that I decide WHAT CONSTITUTES SINNING? in context of my declaration.

So I turn to Google. There I am immersed in lengthy discussion and definition.

Didn't really learn anything new.

So I return to my confession.

No, no — not that kind of confession. I am not Catholic.  Not even religious.

My sin of the moment is a violation of a self-imposed rule — that I must avoid, or at least limit  the consumption of sugar.  Because it has noticeable harmful effects on my physical well being.

So I forego the delight of cookies and cake.  But, oh, how I love chocolate!

Like an old song that keeps playing in my mind, my consciousness is infected by a craving.  A remorseless demanding, longing  . . . for Oreo cookies.

After long, interminable restraint I yielded.  I bought a package, wrapped in blue, and set about to satiate my longing.

I placed the Oreos on my dining table, and lustfully gazed in delicious anticipation at the illustration on the package. Carefully, with a sharp knife, I slit the wrapper, and opened it like an eager husband undressing his bride. I gazed upon the three rows of brown, crispy cream filled sandwiches, inviting me, tempting me …

I shall eat but one.

It will eat only one .

I will not eat more than one.

And when I was done I realized that the row of Oreos which I so quickly consumed had contained fifteen cookies.

Amen.