"I'm going to keep the cookie out of the bag so it doesn't break," the cashier said when she rang up my purchases.
"Cool," I said. "That thing isn't even going to make it to the car."
I slung the bag over two fingers and began unwrapping the cookie as I left the store. It proved trickier than I imagined, so I incorporated the use of a forearm and my knee to remove the cellophane.
Then, of course, I dropped the unwrapped cookie in the parking lot.
I looked at the cookie. I looked at the car that was waiting for me to cross. I looked at the cookie again. My stomach rumbled, it sounded like "Oh, no." I picked up the cookie and my options spun quickly through my head:
1. Eat it. It was just on the asphalt for a few seconds. You once re-chewed gum you dropped on a sidewalk. Don't be such a pussy.
2. Don't eat it, that's disgust. Plus, the people in that car totally saw you drop it. If you eat it, they will know the depths of your depravity.
3. Pretend like you aren't going to eat it; Eat it in the car.
4. Throw it away before you get any funny ideas about maybe eating it.
I turned around and threw it in the garbage can outside the door. I was still kind of mourning the loss of it as I walked toward my car. It's not like the ground was visibly dirty. It's just ground, you know? What gets on ground that is so terrible.
Two steps later I looked to my right and saw a mound of dog shit.
And that, Foodies, is why we don't eat cookies that we dropped in the parking lot.