I can’t have peanut butter in the house any more. I’ve tried to be sensible about it. I tell myself it’s a nice thing to have in the cupboard for when you fancy it. I’ll just put it at the back. Maybe behind some jars. Move the balsamic vinegar in front of it so that it’s not staring at me every time I go in there for tinned tomatoes. Close the door, job done. Walk away, my friend.
But I know it’s there.
Its nutty little siren song floats through the gap between the cupboard doors, out of the kitchen and up to my desk. It tells me I can just have a little taste, half a teaspoon, a tiny scrape off the top. What’s the big deal? It’s there to be enjoyed. Just use a bit of self control.
Thirty five little scrapes and several heavy, claggy spoonfuls later, and it’s gone. Up and down, up and down, there and back, open, close, fresh spoon every time – no wonder there’s never any teaspoons in this house.
And then, poof. Empty.
It’s easy to spin out, envisioning a future consigned to a nut butter crack den, empty jars littering the floor between filthy mattresses and torn curtains. A crudely scribbled ‘nO sUnPaT aLlOwEd’ sign slides down the front door leaving a grainy smear of the brown goop used to glue it in place. We might be scumbags here, but not even we’ll touch that filth.
Give me a 12 step programme. I can polish off a 1kg tub of Pip & Nut Coconut Almond Butter in three days (or less) and it barely touches the sides.
Give me a fag packet-style health warning for nutty narcotics. Hide the jars behind counters and plaster them with photos of dazed addicts emerging from their nut butter frenzy, horror in their eyes as they realise that, yet again, they’re going to have to smuggle in a fresh supply and eat the exact amount that was gone already so that no-one will know their shame.
Give me a spoon. I will never learn. Resistance is futile. I’ll be sauntering around the supermarket and suddenly find myself on THAT aisle, standing in front of THOSE jars, all shame forgotten.
Ooh, nut butter! Yes, I LIKE nut butter, don’t I?
It’ll be different this time, I’ll tell myself. It’s just a nice thing to have in the cupboard for when you fancy it. Just use a bit of self control.
The door to the nut butter crack den widens a little more.