This is not a funny blog post, so please don't laugh at my pathetic reality

My elder child requested something a few months ago and I, ever the attentive mother, have been diligent in my compliance. Somehow, she didn't inherit any of the stalwart willpower I possess in astonishing amounts (as long as negative amounts count; which means that's sarcasm, for those of you who are new to this game).

Anyhoo, she said that if she knows we have junk food around, she will eat through it until it is gone. Now, personally, I see nothing wrong with that, except if she eats it all and then I want to eat it all, too. But other than that... Anyway, apparently she doesn't want to locust her way through the snack aisle of the grocery store the way that I do. So I've been buying less, and trying to make it super low key when I do.

About four weeks ago, Walgreens had a good sale on regular candy bars. I bought (yes, I remember exactly from my purchase a month ago. Shut up) a Heath Bar, white chocolate Kit Kat, Reese's big cup, and then noticed a flirty little 5th Avenue that I had to have. When I got home, I ate the 5th Avenue, then I set about trying to find a place to put the other three bars.

Do you see where this is going?

So... a week or so after my purchase, I decided I was in the mood for maybe a Kit Kat with smooth white chocolate coating. Sounds good, right? So I looked up in the place where I keep my spices, because I remembered putting the brown paper bag, carefully folded over to be compact and surreptitious, up there... But it wasn't there.

Then something buzzed in my brain about how that was right above the Instant Pot, and when I release the steam, it might affect the chocolate, so I *didn't* put it there. Had I put it in the regular pantry? That seemed kind of douchey, but I looked there, anyway.

I ended up looking in all of the cabinets and couldn't find it. I just gave up and decided that it might hit me where I put them later.

It didn't hit me, and over the next few days, I'd relook in all of the places I'd already looked when I was in the kitchen cooking, cleaning, or emptying the dishwasher. Seriously. Where were they?

In the ensuing weeks, I've looked in my bedroom drawers, bookshelves, and pretty much everywhere except under the counters anywhere because I wouldn't put them low enough for Mal to get to them, and I haven't looked in the laundry room or bathroom because they get hot and humid, and plus, gross: people and cats use it in there.

WHERE IS MY CANDY?

It was less than $2.50, but the contents of that bag represent a lot more to me in terms of memory and holding it together and my hope that at least a few of my brain cells still function!

So, there it is. This is my life now. Forever searching my home for my lost candies. Do you realize that the universe has trusted me with the care and well-being of TWO HUMAN CHILDREN? I cannot keep track of tiny bricks of chocolate, unable to move under their own volition, and yet I am supposedly competent to make sure that these kids survive until adulthood? Who's in charge around here?