Cookie=Monster?

Of all things, I actually have what I need to make peanut butter cookies in this house at one time:

Peanut Butter, Sugar, Vanilla, and an Egg.

The egg is odd man out normally; The House of Fun just doesn't have 'em around that much, probably because my omelette making stinks on ice, so why embarass/frustrate yourself?

So why haven't I made peanut butter cookies? Ah, I've got three built-in reasons for that one, but they're all lies.

1.) I haven't any parchment paper or Pam -- they would stick! (lame, I know. Besides Cammie could help here)

2.) Goddamn it, save those eggs for yet another attempt at that Good Omelette! Who the frick am I kidding?

3.) I'm depressed -- the idea of peanut butter cookies unmade is better than actually making them, because you would then have to eat them and then they would be gone, and you couldn't go back to reason number two.

So I'm writing to say that I don't like this state of uneaten cookiedom, but through my own cluelessness I've backed myself into it. Who figured this out? Not me; it was a couple of characters from my unfinished novel that needled me about these frickin' cookies this very evening. And were they just talking to me about cookies? Was I listening? Am I now? I think so; I can actually post this for the world to read. If, by "world", I mean Cammie and I. Cammie is a world unto herself, so how many more planets do I need to orbit the windmills of my mind? Why do I write sentences like that, other than I'm tired? (OK, good enough reason)

Tommorow, I will decide to make cookies...or not. And either way is cool.