I made it all of ten days without sugar in any form before my brain started trying to knock me off the wagon (it was a really good try, frighteningly). It cooked up this charming little scene:
My family and I all wake up on the morning of a holiday—or maybe just the weekend of someone's birthday—and have a breakfast of tea, bacon, and grain-free scones sweetened with maple syrup. The sun is streaming in through the windows, the kitchen is sparkling clean (plus we got some little ruffly curtains for it that are fluttering in the breeze), and everyone is abnormally vibrant. We all sit around the table, and I take off the yellow apron I also do not actually own, and we cheerfully have piles of bacon but just two scones each, appreciating them for the rare and special treat that they are.
See? my brain said. That would be perfectly healthy and really lovely. And it couldn't happen without your Good Friend sugar!
I hope 355 more days will cure me of such fantasies, but right now I am weak and the above scenario is getting penciled in for January 1, 2014.