I’ve given it a lot of Deep Thought, Modern Philosophers, and I’ve determined that the best way to eat Girl Scout Cookies is up on the roof, with your Gargoyle, as you unwind from another day in the trenches.
I know not all of you have been blessed with a loyal Gargoyle as I have, but I’ve been telling you for two years now that you really need to go out and get one.
Why haven’t you followed up on that suggestion? I’m hurt. Seriously.
Thankfully, I have the above pictured boxes of Girl Scout Cookies to assist me in covering up the pain.
Yes, Modern Philosophers, it was cookie delivery day in the office. Well, I got the first of two deliveries, as the second Girl Scout mommy is out on maternity leave.
Hopefully, she still brings me my cookies.
You know it was.
There is something to be said for sitting up on the roof and enjoying a treat under the ever vigilant eye of my Gargoyle bodyguard .
“You’re devouring those cookies like the answers to life’s eternal mysteries are buried at the bottom of the box,” Gary observed from his perch at the edge of the roof.
“How do we know for certain that they’re not until I reach the bottom?” I countered and then crammed another cookie into my mouth.
As I wiped crumbs off of my toga, I stared up at the clear evening sky.
“One of the things I most hated about living in Southern California was that I could never see the stars,” I shared with Gary since I couldn’t share my cookie stash with him. “The damn smog made them impossible to see.”
“How ironic, seeing that Southern California is the home of stars of stage and screen,” Gary replied with a snicker.
Gargoyles have a very dry sense of humor, and I’m sure it’s one of the reasons Gary and I bonded so quickly. That, and because he chose to make watching over me and The House on the Hill his mission in life.
“Life slows down when you take the time to watch him from up on the roof,” I spouted out yet another Deep Thought and rewarded myself with a cookie. One of the peanut butter ones this time.
“The world would be much easier to navigate if everyone just got me the way you did, Gary.”
And I meant that. Part of what I hated the most about being alone was that there wasn’t that constant back and forth.
My comedy routine works much better with an audience, especially one made up of a single, witty, smart ass who could give it back to me as quickly as I dished it out.
There was no witty banter to fill my days, so instead, I filled my belly with Girl Scout Cookies. Up on the roof. With my loyal Gargoyle keeping an eye on me.
Try it sometime, Modern Philosophers. You’ll thank me for sure…