Step five: Microwave for one minute and thirty seconds.
Step six: Put away your roommate’s dishes (and your own red Mickey Mouse bowl) since you’ve got the time.
Step six: Mash the remaining chocolate chip lumps to create a nice, soupy texture.
Step seven: Sneak a picture of your hot husband wrapping the last of your Christmas presents.
Step eight: Toss in some pretzels.
Step nine: Drown pretzels.
Step eleven: Fill cookie sheet with deliciousness.
Step twelve: Put cookie sheet(s) in fridge to set for about an hour.
Step thirteen: Think you could do the same with the butterscotch chips in your pantry.
Step fourteen: Discover that butterscotch chips do not melt well in the microwave. (In fact, they cause said microwave to smoke, and your condo to smell like burnt toast all night.)
Step fifteen: Go down to the garage and find the cute Christmas tins your sister-in-law left when she moved out last November.
Step sixteen: Still waiting for the deliciousness to set in the fridge? Eat leftover sushi. (Don’t worry, it was leftover from like three hours ago.)
Step seventeen: Try the butterscotch again, just for kicks. This time, use the stovetop and watch to make sure bubbling blackness doesn’t happen again.
Step eighteen: Learn butterscotch chips just suck, despite what your husband says, but still make him his own batch of butterscotch pretzels. He’s hot, after all, and what can you do?
Step nineteen: (Not pictured.) Fill Christmas tins with deliciousness. Store in fridge until the 25th.