Don't know what it is with me and cookies. Baking cookies is like a child on the floor, hanging about and saying I wanna plaaaay. Picture me slouched over my kitchentable, buried in recipe books and clippings, "I wanna bake cookieieies." The books substitute the parent here, suggesting: gingersnaps? (no ginger), chocolate chips? (not again), snickerdoodles?, (don't know) sugarcookies? (nah dough needs to be chilled), macaroons? (I'm out of coconut) and this goes on and on untill someone calls for dinner and the child says: what? Time for dinner? And I haven't even played yet!
In this case, alas, I'm the parent (you know: sensible, responsible, caring, and all that) and when someone calls you for dinner you know you have to make dinner yourself, and you haven't even baked cookies yet!
I could have been a girl scout, "be prepared" could be in my dictionary, so in one of my very organised days I remind myself to have a batch of cookiedough in the fridge in case the Urge strikes. I could even freeze some...Yeah right, Dûh!
Or you could get your favourite snickerdoodles recipe from the prepared pantry