I awoke this morning, late. Knowing full well that the potential for well balanced meals lay dormant in the kitchen, I headed out the door. [ For some regular readers, please do not consider this as a leitmotif. ] Blearily made it to work thinking that I’d walk to the corporation’s commissary for a bite to eat, scratching cardio and daily allotment of nitrates off the to-do list.
Silently typing away at my computer without my first cup of coffee, the boss comes in, after two weeks of leave with boxes of breakfast pastry. Now, I’m going to chalk this up to weariness but when there was nobody I took a peek at the boxes. Not having taken a donut in many a week, I felt justified. None of my top favorites were there, no buttermilk or sour cream, cruller, nor fruit filled. I settled for a lovely glazed yeast-risen donut. As I took the first bite, I savored the lovely sweetness — soft chew and smooth crumb. Grabbing a coffee from the suite’s coffee station, I promptly finished the donut, but had a sinking feeling that I’d be asleep from the sugar shock by 0900.Feeling dirty, I decided to write about this. The more shameful side-note of this story, is that I’m already half-way through a chocolate chip muffin as I type this line.