Hiding In Plain Sight

I keep miniature chocolate bars in my room at all times as a female necessity. They come in a large, bright yellow variety bag that I split in between two jars as soon as possible to keep them from going stale, as a single bag lasts for months.

My father has a huge sweet tooth, which leads to the occasional plea for chocolate, and in spite of being fairly intelligent, he can be as observant as a brick wall. My mother told me about this conversation she had with him.

Dad: “[My Name]’s chocolate is already gone!”

Mom: “What?”

Dad: “She got a new bag, what, two days ago? I saw the bag in her trash! She’s already finished them!”

It would be physically impossible for me to eat that much chocolate without getting sick, so naturally, my mother is skeptical. She goes down to check for herself, and lo and behold, the plastic bag is indeed in my trash can, but the jars on my dresser are completely full. When she tells me about this conversation, I’m as incredulous as she is.

Me: “He didn’t see the chocolate jars on my dresser… four feet away?”

Mom: “I don’t know.”

I guess my sweets are safe.