In Which I Reveal My Obsession with Candles

I am not writing to let you know that my commissary doesn't carry Dutch-process cocoa and how my plans for brownies are crushed, or that I accidentally bought "Organic Biologique" lettuce, or that I somehow  decided Tostitos and French Onion Dip would go great together. Or how I saw an old man in short shorts. Definitely not going there.

I am writing to tell you about an obsession. Here is my most recent acquisition of said obsession. 

Why hello there, gorgeous . . .

Candles, my dears. I heart them.

I love how they look, I love how fresh they can smell, I love the vibe they give to a room, I love candles. Normally, I prefer Yankee or Caldrea candles. But I have not been able to FIND them here in Texas! Nowhere . . . to . . . be . . . seen!! 

Clearly the evidence of weakness you see above was the result of withdrawal. 

So about today: I very innocently went to the commissary to buy, among other things, tortellini and toilet paper. On the aisle of  dish soap, I noticed some little baby votive candles. And I distinctly remember thinking to myself, "Well, it's good they don't have any real candles here."

Then I turned around and saw "real candles." It was downhill from there. 

I saw, I smelled, I bought. It all happened so quickly. 

Candles. I have zero resistance to them.