The Heist of a Lifetime

It was a quarter to four in the morning when I abruptly wrestled my eyes ajar. It was not the blaring of the untimely street cleaner curbside to my window nor the ambient wine of the flickering fluorescent outside my door that woke me. It was the churning deep in my gut and the sudden apparition of succulent meat lasagna, fresh crunchy bruschetta, and bulbous meatballs smothered in a thick red gravy rotating over my head like a mobile that motivated this heist.
 I had been at my grandparent's suburban New York home for an entire twelve hours and I was already suffering from unnerving urges to indulge my ravenous appetite for my grandmother's "world famous meatballs."Nothing could suppress my urges; not the jet lag, my hawk of an aunt, or the decrepit home built wood stairs that spiraled down three flights.
I rolled out of bed landing upright on my feet standing at attention ready to embark on my mission. The premeditated retrieval of theses divine, mouth watering spheres.
As I eased the door open I firmly grasped the knob cautious not to release it to quickly. The once ambient drone of the light became significantly louder now and felt as if each flicker shot shivers down my spine. I pushed the fear to the back of my mind and descended down the ancient spiral of unprofessionally nailed planks. I slid off the last step breathing a sigh of relief as I inched my way into the kitchen. Searching aimlessly through the blanket of night for the refrigerator handle I was sure I had woken somebody up. But nothing could deter my efforts at this point. I hastily threw the door against the wall as I began to rummage through the variety of entrees and desserts. There it was, center stage with an aura of light surrounding transparent Tupperware as if it had been summoned by the gods.
The hands on the wall adjacent to me began to race clockwise as it became more apparent my time was running short. I unveiled my trophy from the shelf and heaved it on the counter top. As I opened the holy grail aromas instantaneously transferred to my taste buds. I thrust my longest finger, the middle one, to extract the maximum amount of this mesmerizing gravy possible. Ah, the explosion of flavor reminded me that I had to get the succulent spheres up to my room all for myself.  
I plopped five juicy wads onto my plate and sprinkled a myriad of cheeses on top. 
Then came the hard part, heating the dish up. I pried the microwave door open, slid the plate in and secured the door shut. Now a countdown of two minutes and thirty second is all that stood between my and this steaming edible tradition. I procured the bubbling mound of meat and melted cheese from the microwave. Now with the prize in hand I spared no hesitation but extreme caution as I began my ascent up the last obstacle that remained between me and complete bliss. When I reached the top and sat back into my bed I ruthlessly began to immerse my self in the heavenly saucy red platter. The indulgence of my craving made me blind to the repercussions. Like when we would al sit down at the next dinner and that inevitable desire presents itself once again.