I have acquired an unfortunate habit. It began with my first pregnancy. I get up and eat in the middle of the night. Every night. Apparently it's not good for you or something. Is that why everything tastes so much better in the middle of the night?
After I met my true love, we kept discovering weird things we had in common with each other. On our honeymoon as I slipped ever-so-quietly out of bed at 2 a.m. to dig into the junk food we'd brought into our hotel room, I discovered my favorite thing we share. He'd beaten me to it. Of course, he was a gentleman and left two-thirds of the giant cookie for me.
Now I'm getting hungry.
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