Chocolate.

Just saying the word brings to mind stolen moments of bliss, sitting in a corner, in a car, in bed, savoring a truffle, a piece of fine dark chocolate, a Hershey bar. Just like there's no wrong way to eat a Reese's, there's nothing you can do to ruin a fine bar of chocolate.

Or at least that's what I thought.

Until last week.

One of my good friends, knowing I was having a stressful week littered with mines called "deadlines," dropped off several bars of chocolate to help fuel my brain and ease my consternation. Looking at the wrappers, I knew she had taken some time and care before making her selections. The bars were not cheap. They were also organic (although I'm not fussy). They were waiting for me when I staggered back to my desk following back-to-back meetings about topics I know nothing about and care about even less. I spotted the bars on my desk and alighted on the first one, clutching it in my desperate hand. Doing a quick sweep of the room to make sure no one had seen the confection on my desk, I opened my drawer and swept the other two out of sight. Then, leaning back in my ergonomic office chair, I unwrapped the bar in my hand and took a huge bite.

And promptly spit it out.

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