It was quite a horrifying summer. My days lounging by the sapphire embedded pool, or taking short jaunts on horseback were ever cut short by the somewhat unpleasant habit of consuming an Oreo cookie. Each afternoon, at 3:15, Augustus would promptly bring over a silver tray, upon which stood a neatly stacked pyramid of the famed cookie, along with a crystal tumbler of ice cold breast milk from one of the large mothers we kept for the purpose. I always hated having to remove my silk gloves and worse yet touching the milk and cookies so I could dunk them. After a while I had Augustus himself do the dunking, but he never could quite do it correctly given the surgical gloves I made him wear. Nor was I going to suffer the embarrassment of allowing him to place the cookie in my mouth, and so even still I was obliged to touch the sweet. This contrivance has revolutionized my routine and brightened each and every day. I purchased several for each of my estates, yachts and airships.