We have once again arrived at the absolute worst time of the year. The time when the melancholy doldrums of January and February set in, and the life of many a happy man, run into pure sadness. Snow, Ice, Freezing rain, Wintry owling winds, All the horrible traffic. It is enough to make you want to hibernate till spring comes. Yet all is not despair, because we do look forward to the middle of March when we know our spirits will be lifted again. Unfortunately, the weight of the future hope combined with the devastating longing for wishes unfulfilled leaves one in in a terrible, virtually incurable, despondency. I am, of course, referring to that interminable time of the year between ordering Girl Scout Cookies and when they actually arrive. It’s only made worse by the fact it also happens to be winter.
Think about it. Most of the year you know that there are no Thin Mints available except the few you stashed in the freezer, with the hope that your significant other won’t find them. They are your treasure, but like all treasures when it’s gone, it’s gone. You continue through life, knowing in the back of your mind that they will come again, along with the equally delicious Samoas and Tag-A-Longs. The funny thing is that since you know there are none to be had, you are able to smile with the knowledge that nobody else has them either. So, you sprint though life from June to December on the blissful wings of innocence.
Then Comes January! This year it was January fifteenth. (please insert the ominous music of your choice) On the table in the break room, there it was, the order form. One side covered smiling active girls, as well as pictures of deliciously airbrushed cookies. The other side featuring about a million tiny square blocks, with the tempting color coded vertical lines, with the simple little girl’s name, hand written, on the bottom. It doesn’t matter to you that some parent brought this in. You are buying cookies to help little Cassie, or Heather, or Mary, or whoever, get that much-needed patch, or trip to camp. Although, you secretly suspect that the girl is already a cookie billionaire.
You don’t think about the fact that you will be bombarded outside every grocery store, bank, and church in about a month, with girls in green uniforms, begging you to buy. No, you place a large order, even though you know that you will still purchase from every girl that you see at store fronts, and probably before this order comes in. The allure of Thin Mints will not be denied.
That is when the realization sets in. You have ordered these delectable goodies, and know they’ll be here any day. BZZZT! Wrong answer! Thank you for playing. You see, you can’t have them for several months. The Girl Scouts are not Amazon.com, they do not offer next day shipping. I would gladly pay $100 a year for Girl Scout Cookies Prime, but it doesn’t exist. Consequently, we wait. Tick-Tock Tick-Tock We wait, through January. Tick-Tock Tick-Tock We wait through February Tick-Tock Tick-Tock, past Groundhog Day, past Valentine’s Day, (Savannah Smiles make a great gift), and past President’s Day Tick-Tock Tick-Tock Even though February’s the shortest month, it seems like the longest because you have cookies on order. You have paid your money, and have mothing, but hair-loss and sleepless-nights to show for it.
Then comes March, the month you know your dreams will be fulfilled, but not until the middle of the month. “The heightened desire would make Julius Cesar look forward to ‘Ides of March’. Unfortunately, as your frustration grows to immense proportions. It does not help that this is also hockey season, with the puck looking much like a giant Thin Mint. But don’t try to eat them. They are hard, made of rubber, and not chocolatey or minty at all. Trust me on this.
International terrorists shouldn’t feel the way I do in early March. In fact, I think that everyone who enters Guantanamo Bay should be greeted by little Tiffany. Consider this picture: The international criminal enters the prison yard and in the back corner are two girls; one with long blond hair, and one with curly brown, both twelve years old, in green dresses with sashes covered in badges. They would be surrounded by the other inmates, and constantly looking over their shoulders searching for signs of the guards. They look totally innocent, right? No, these two are armed with order forms.
The new detainee walks casually over, and one of the girls say, “Come on over friend, I’ve got something for you. A box is opened, a sample given, (Oh yes, the first one is always free), and the man is hooked. Then they start the pitch, “No Money Needed now, just place an order,” they put on a big smile with a tooth missing on the left side. Rainbow Trout should be hooked and reeled in this easy Even the most hardened of criminals would melt.
Fast forward one month, the inmates are really thinking about those cookies now. After two months they will do, or say, anything for the peanut buttery goodness of a Tag-A-Long. Then one day a guard is spotted crunching a cookie. He says he got it at the mall, and prisoner’s orders have not come in yet. I’m completely convinced, at that singular moment, they could get any information they wanted for the simple price of a Samoa. They don’t need waterboarding or any other intensive interrogation technique. Remember cookies don’t need congressional approval, and are completely legal, but I digress.
I guess what I’m saying is the Girl Scouts do this to me every year, and I can’t seem to break the cycle. I want my cookies. Maybe I’ll cope better next year, here’s hoping.