I know they're in there

Hershey's kisses, that is. A whole bag of 'em. They're in the next room, on the kitchen counter. I have the Dems debate on, and nothing would make me happier than ripping that bag open and gobbling as I watch. But no. Those little chocolate darlings are for the Trick or Treaters.

Wish me strength. I must exercise my will, even though I know they're right there waiting for me.