If my marriage ends, I blame the Girl Scouts.

It's that time of year -- yes, Girl Scout Cookie madness. I got little girls knocking on my door, waiting outside the grocery store and stalking me at work with their cute little girl eyes and evil, calorie-infested cookies. So far, I've been pretty good. I bought one box -- and one box only -- and then left it at CPT Dick's office for him to share with his boys. And since then, though I've been tempted, I've managed to resist the siren's call of the Samoas (or Tag-a-longs, or whatever the hell they are calling them in your region).

But yesterday, all my hard work turned into naught when CPT Dick came home with not one, not two, but eight boxes of Girl Scout cookies. "I was ambushed!" he exclaimed, and sang me some song about how everyone brought their daughter's boxes in that day and once he said yes to one, he had to say yes to all. So now we have a lot of cookies. I'm willing to admit I wasn't totally horrified.

But there are only two boxes of my favorite, the Samoas. I like my chocolate-y, coconut-caramel cookies at room temperature. You know, so I don't break my teeth. But my husband prefers them in the freezer. But he pretty much just swallows them whole and doesn't have the teeth issue.

Back when we were first married, we would actually argue over something this mundane, with CPT Dick sneaking a box into the freezer when he thought I wasn't looking. But now, after so many years of marriage, we've matured and we decided that we'd put one box in the freezer for CPT Dick and leave one in the pantry for me. Too easy, right?

Last night, I decided that I would indulge in a cookie after dinner. But when I went to the pantry, I found my box not only open but missing all but two cookies. I walked to the living room with my almost empty box and asked my husband, "Did you eat all my cookies?"

He grinned sheepishly and then said, "Well, not all of them." I considered throwing the box at his head but didn't want to potentially bruise the remaining treats.

"I thought you preferred your cookies frozen!"

"Well, but I started to wonder if maybe you were right. I couldn't live with myself if they were better at room temperature! So I decided to test the theory empirically. And to do that, I needed an adequate sample size."

Bastard ate my cookies. And the ones in the freezer, too. And then to add insult to injury, he tells me, "And you know what? They are really good both ways!"

If any other Girl Scouts come calling, I'm hiding any purchases in the garage.