Chekhov wrote a story about a lawyer and a banker. To greatly simplify, the lawyer accepted a bet that he could not stay confined to a house for 15 years. He accepted the bet, but on the day before the 15 years were up, he climbed out the window, thus forfeiting the bet. What he had come to realize during his solitary and lengthy confinement extinguished his desire to win the bet. It's complicated; it's Russian literature.
This year I have abided by my longstanding observance of giving up candy for Lent. I've done this since I was about 7 years old, when I felt it was something God would have wanted me to do. Later it may have been an attempt at dieting or a test of will power, and then maybe just a tradition. I have candy in the house, a few pieces of leftover Valentine's Day candy and even a recently opened bag of Reeses's Peanut Butter Cups readily available in a candy dish in the living room. I haven't eaten candy since the day before Ash Wednesday, about a week and a half ago. I don't feel any holier, I'm not any thinner, but as far as will power goes, I know I can resist the temptation. Like Chekhov's lawyer, in my solitude and retrospection, I realize there are things far more important than winning a bet, even against myself. So perhaps in early April, a day before the end of Lent, I'll grab some candy and crawl out a window, and disappear.
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