A tiny shot of excitement pulsed through me upon seeing the half-eaten baked good sitting on the top shelf of my fridge at 6 a.m. Behold, a gnawed-upon donut sans wrapping or containment of any sort. Hastily abandoned by some ten year-old sticky fingers just before being called to brush their teeth last night. I know my standards are low, but what a jackpot for Mom on a Monday morning.
Upon closer inspection, I discovered that what I had thought was a morsel of sugary pastry was actually a bagel. Not any old bagel, but a slightly gnawed-upon school cafeteria box lunch bagel trying to pass as multigrain but failing miserably as a spongy, cardboard grainy blob.
Oh. Hello, Monday.
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