There are many things in life I’m not great at, walking without tripping and mental math among them. But one thing I’m decidedly worse at than all the rest is slowing down. That’s not a backwards tribute to my superhuman productivity because there is none to speak of; I don’t get anything more done than anyone else, I just try to do more things simultaneously without ever stopping. This explains why I can’t watch TV without also reading a magazine, making a grocery list, painting my toenails, and solving world hunger.

This also explains why tonight, as I sit here counting the hours of sleep I’ve gotten since Sunday on a small number of fingers, I can’t just throw in the towel and surrender. No, no. I need to return emails. And edit pictures. And catch up on my overflowing Google Reader. And do a thousand other things that I don’t actually need to do, all in the name of iron-clad resistance to being idle. Nothing scares me quite like the notion of wasted time.

My brain is too tired to stage an outright protest so it made its requests known in another form. It sent a signal directly to my stomach. And that signal was as follows: “Comfort Food. Pronto. If nothing else, give me a cookie.”

What could I do but oblige?

It’s not like I’m lacking in lame points because I sure am racking them up right now, so I decided what the heck, why not acquire a few more by moving forward with a plan that went from thought to action in .5 seconds? And that thought was as follows: “I really want a warm chocolate chip cookie. I’ll just make 1/8th of a chocolate chip cookie recipe.”

Clearly all cylinders are firing flawlessly tonight.

Before I knew it I was in the kitchen, whipping up the world’s smallest batch of cookies. When they came out of the oven they weren’t so much cookies as they were mildly heated spheres of dough. I thought they were more done than they actually were but that was ok because barely baked cookies really are the best kind. My stomach and my brain were both adequately satisfied.

Looking back, I’m not sure why I felt it necessary to tell you this story. But, dear friends, there it is.

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