I'm a second generation chocolate criminal. My mother took to it at a young age stealing a Cherry Ripe from her family shop and smuggling it out in her undies. What devious criminality. Perhaps I'm worse. No, I did not steal candy from a baby. I took it from an aged pensioner. Shame. Last week, I was at a new aged care facility checking things out on Margaret's behalf. The info bag included a box of four chocolates. I handed over the info and told her about the goodies. After a chat, I gathered up my stuff and left. Naturally, when I found the chocolates later I ate them. Today, that came back to bite me. We were discussing respite with an Aged Care Assessment Team member. The controversial matter of the chocolates resurfaced. I'd seen the respite centre, Margaret said. Been there, done that, eaten the chocolates. "She ate them all," Margaret said. "She's supposed to be on a diet. No wonder she can't lose any weight." Sick burn. I guess I deserved it ... and the chocolates made it all worthwhile.
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