It started benign enough.
Sesame Street did a collaboration with Gotham Greens. They put Sesame Street characters on salad packaging. Salad. The healthy thing. Leaves. You know.
Pokin thought it was cute and picked up the Cookie Monster one. Good choice. Responsible. A woman training for Everest Base Camp, buying lettuce. Her friends would be proud.
The lettuce lived in the fridge for about a week.
And for about a week, every time she opened the fridge, Cookie Monster stared back at her. Cookie Monster. On lettuce. The irony of putting the cookie guy on salad is not lost on me, a bear who understands that dessert is the superior meal category.
After seven days of psychological warfare from a plastic container, Pokin cracked.
She did not buy more salad.
Four full-sized Crumbl cookies. Not small ones. Not the minis. The big ones.
She ate them for dinner.
That was dinner. The whole dinner. Four cookies from a pink box on the kitchen counter where the salad used to be. Cookie Monster won.
Her friend Davey called it rock bottom. Chestnut called it “concerning.” I call it the most relatable thing Pokin has done all year.
The salad, for what it’s worth, did eventually get eaten. But not that night. That night belonged to the cookies.