Kevin’s watching a documentary on Netflix and I sat beside him, laundry actually folded, with every intention of making a dent in my current read.  Instead, I’m gorging on Jelly Bellys (bellies?) trying to get my blood sugar up.  (I just started an OmniPod pump and it’s only as smart as it’s programming, and we’re still trying to perfect that process…)  Blood sugar levels aside, Jelly Bellys are meant to be savoured one at a time, not lobbed by the handful down the gullet.  I mean you have 20 random flavours to pull out of a tiny 100g bag.  35 beans to take your chances on with every bean in a serving.  But I made the mistake of inhaling about 15 in one mouthful, because when your blood sugar drops you may resemble a rabid ravenous wolf.  Self-control tends to go out the window when your body is trying to shut down brain function in order to keep the heart pumping – some kind of self-preservation thing, I’m sure… and Jelly Bellys were close to hand so that’s what we’re eating.  No judgement, please.

Back to that handful… 20 random flavours in the bag.  15 beans in that mouthful, give or take.  Each bean meant to be savoured individually… but I chose to scarf them.  And I regretted that choice the minute the revulsive flavour of a buttered popcorn bean mingled with the odious licorice bean beside the delightful blend of any other flavour that wasn’t either of those two choices.  I really wish I had eaten one bean at a time, not just to relish the individual profiles of my favourite beans (strawberry daiquiri) – but also to avoid the unpleasant experience that happens when one (or two) bad beans taint the pleasure of a good-tasting Jelly Belly.