When it's daylight savings time, within a week of the summer solstice, and you're leaving work after dark, you've probably spent too much time at work. Sure enough, I spent about twelve hours at work yesterday, struggling with a backlog and an ever-increasing daily workload. And when I stepped out of my office building, I knew that if I went home right away, my apartment would be bereft of food. And my stomach growled; the measly sandwich I'd had some eons ago had proved insufficient sustenance.

And I knew that among the breads and fruits and other such foodstuffs I'd buy, I'd be leaving my local Smith's Marketplace with a package of gummi bears without any regard to brand or quality. It's called a craving. And a craving supported by hunger is a might force indeed.

A little after ten o'clock, I stumbled into my apartment, stashed my frozen goods in the freezer, and tore into my Smith's house brand (Kroger) bag of gummi bears. I was absolutely predisposed to an enjoyment of these rubbery, ursine candies. However, I don't know if I've ever had better gummi candies. Fresher, richer, and all-around better than any gummi bears in memory, I was so impressed, I continued to eat, and eat, and eat them, foregoing dinner proper for far too long. Vaguely fruity, heavenly goodness sustained me.

They were the best bears I could have hoped for at the time I needed them most. Or were they? Water when you're parched can taste like the best vintage wine. No matter. These gummi bears were, quite simply the greatest consumables ever sealed in a plastic pouch.

Five somethings out of five somethings.