We're just twelve hours away from March and for the second year in a row, I haven’t seen a single Girl Scout selling cookies. Oh, I know they’re out there. I’ve seen the Facebook posts from my friends, happily gorging themselves on Thin Mints. I’ve seen the Internet Memes showing smiling cookie sellers set up in front of a medical marijuana shop. And yet in my neck of the woods, the Girl Scouts have gone underground like…like a groundhog hiding from a news crew.

I know my internal clock hasn’t reset itself. I’ve seen the first signs of spring. The snow has melted. The daffodils are blooming. But the cookies are nowhere in sight. And me? I can’t ditch the unshakeable craving for a line of Thin Mints, fresh from the freezer. And yes, I’m dying to do line after line until my breath has the permanent hint of mint. (Has anyone wondered if maybe THIS is how Cooper got his minty breath? Just putting that thought out there.)

I can almost hear the familiar crackle of the clear wrapping as I tear it open with my teeth, and the snap of the first cookie as I bite into the cool, minty goodness. Just thinking about it starts the tingle at the tip of my fingers as I long to rip open a brand new box. I’m having heart palpitations at the mere memory of the taste.

I went trolling for cookies just the other day. I keep checking the local shops, hoping I’ll find a random Girl Scout I can stalk, I mean follow home, I mean…ask. Right. I’ll ask them if they can hook me up with my cookie fix. Or at least direct me to an addiction counselor. I knew I had a thing for chocolate, but since when does a picture of a cookie send a person into withdrawal? The addiction is real people…real, I tell you! 

Ok…I need to get a handle on this. I’ve done an internet search to see if they’re selling cookies in my area, and I’ve come up blank. And I know I can order them from Amazon, but at ten dollars a box, I’d have to skip something else this month. Like groceries. Or my car payment. And my husband is hiding my debit card until they take down the order option. He knows.

And so do I. You don’t have to say anything. I can feel an intervention coming, and I haven’t even touched my first cookie.

It’s going to be a long spring.