My Greatest Challenge

This morning I woke up to the following scene in my kitchen:

Apparently my roommate had a cookie-baking extravaganza last night and left these delicious morsels to tempt me. I would normally indulge and not think twice, however, this same roommate had left a pan of brownies out earlier in the week, telling me that I was "welcome to have some." She just recently moved in and is obviously not savvy to my eating capabilities; the pan was gone in a day and half, and I personally accounted for 85% of the damage done to said brownies. I felt rather guilty.

SO. You can imagine my moral dilemma upon finding this delightful assortment of baked goods today, without receiving an open invitation to partake. I examined the plate of decorated sugar cookies for a good five minutes, carefully trying to determine which could be extracted from the plate without being noticed.

Has she counted the cookies?

Is she particularly attached to a certain color?

Just how delicious ARE they?

Will the concentric circles on the plate be askew if I take one?

These questions, and many more, raced through my voracious brain as I grasped desperately to devise a plot clever enough for me to savor a single (or perhaps two) cookie(s). After realizing that further time spent scheming was going to make me late to work, I put my tail between my legs, admitted defeat, and left the house EXTREMELY unsatisfied.

Returning home several hours later I found the same cookies, which had some how become even more delicious-looking in my absence. Through the miracles of frosting and sweets, their enticement had increased at an exponential rate, defying all logic. Again I scrutinized the plates of goodies, but gave up after only a few minutes. I approached this problem from every angle imaginable, but sadly it just did not seem possible.

My roommate is still not home, there is still no offer of delicious sugar or oatmeal raisin cookies, and my tummy remains devoid and denied of treats: this may be the hardest thing I've ever had to [not] do.

P.S. The photo of the Prophet was not planted; however its placement, combined with the location of the cookies, does seem very ironic...