This weekend I thought about something. Something important. Something that I couldn’t shake. Something that was plaguing me.
Why did a box of Hawaiian Host chocolate-covered macadamia nuts suddenly appear on our kitchen counter?
Did it belong to someone?
Was it a gift for someone?
Would anyone care if I ate half of its incredibly delicious contents?
Why was it unopened? Was it poison? If I tried opening it, would I suddenly be hanging by one foot upside-down from a rope?
Was this a trap?
In the Birle house, there really is no explanation for an unopened box of chocolate. I don't get it.
And it’s still there…