I am always tempted by cuties, or clementines, or whatever you want to call them, at the grocery store. They are just so – well, cute – and tiny and adorable that I always overlook the fact that they come in bags of about 700, and it’s humanly impossible to eat that many tiny oranges before they get as forlorn and squishy and pathetic as that last kid waiting to be picked for teams at recess.

Will refuses to eat clementines because he’s all about practicality and, when eating these little adorable babies of the citrus world, “it takes way too much time and effort to peel one bite of fruit.”

So I had a great idea – take them to the office, and leave them temptingly on my desk to lure in treat my unsuspecting coworkers and assuage my fruit-wasting guilt. Brilliant, and scurvy-preventive, right?

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Only problem: since it’s fall, every single person who came into my office without fail said, “Ohmigosh – little pumpkins! How cute!” When it’s once, you can chalk it up to bad vision or something but 10 times in one day – well, that means you’re not getting any closer to optimal clementine consumption levels. And then, even after I explained that, “thank you very much, they’re not pumpkins; they’re little oranges and pleeeease eat them,” people refused to take them.

So, I decided if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. And at least this way, I am kind of, sort of getting some use out of them. Happy fall! ๐Ÿ™‚

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