And why is the White Hen across the street out of the single sleeve of Fig Newtons? (There’s a Brian Regan joke here. You know, the one about “two sleeves.”) Two sleeves would kill me. I only wanted one sleeve. So that I would be half-dead in the morning and not all dead. Because (a) I have no self-control and (b) they’re Fig Newtons. I would eat both sleeves.
Writer’s food. Distract me with tales of the nibblies you keep at hand when you write. I’ve got the caffeine energy drink du jour and a Twix bar. (Well, I had a Twix bar. Gone already. See? If it had been a sleeve of Newtons, I’d still have a few.)