The Klondike Kleptomania of 2014

On September 18, 2014 a crime was committed. You think you know someone. You trust him; you love him. You adopt a cat together, get engaged, adopt a dog, get married, and then he steals right from under you. That Heath Klondike bar was rightfully mine, and he ate anyway. I flipped over a table over this atrocity, and it almost ended our marriage. Before you get all judgy, let me explain . . .

Working in higher education is all part of my “get rich slow” scheme, so Mike and I didn’t really buy name brand anything, but for whatever reason we decided to splurge on Klondike bars, which was an excellent idea for two diabetics, but whatever. We were happy and in love, and the Heath-coated Klondike bars were on sale, so we bought them. They come in an even number that I thought we were going to split evenly. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

The only thing getting me through a long workday was the thought of my last Klondike bar waiting for me in the freezer. At the end of the day, I rushed home. I had planned to eat dessert first that night, so when I got home and the Klondike box was empty, I lost it. It is one thing to eat the last bar, but then to leave the empty box in the freezer. UGH!!!

He apologized, and I forgave him, but then he posted on Facebook that I had eaten the last bar. His post read: “The Klondike Kleptomania of 2014 perpetrated by Kimberly,” AND tagged me in the post. He took a page out of my own book, which is to tell my embarrassing moments as if they happened to the person who witnessed it.

Four years later, I’m glad he tagged me because this memory showed up in my Facebook memories for last Tuesday, and it made me smile. It was a running joke in our relationship and served as a reminder to him about how seriously I take food.

I bought a box of Heath Klondike bars after I saw that post. There are three bars left, and no one better eat the last one. It was always mine!