There's the ridiculously specific (and lengthy) list of foods I do not allow in my apartment simultaneously in the hopes that I will stop doing things like creating impromptu pastries at 9 p.m. on a Tuesday and then eating the entire thing before the morning. Apparently, peanut butter is now added to that list. Tonight, in further proof that a significant part of my brain wants me to die of a heart attack before the age of thirty, my "solution" to the wicked craving I had for peanut butter was to eat the whole jar.
(The jar was, um, 3/4 full.)
See, if the jar of peanut butter was just sitting there in the cupboard, it would tempt me! And I'd know it was there! And then I'd eat it every night!
But if I sat down and ate the entire jar in one burst of legumey gluttony, then it would be gone. And then I wouldn't eat it any more! Solution!
By the by, chunky peanut butter rolled in cocoa krispies is really freaking delicious.