They Ate My Breakfast

My family tends to inhale food, without considering that other folks might be mentally planning to indulge themselves as well.

Take muffins, for example. I’m not supposed to eat gluten, but I do anyways, upon occasion. I get hungry, dang it, and sometimes, you just want what you want.

And for me, that tends to be something stuffed with gluten.

So, there I am, stumbling into the kitchen, desperately seeking coffee, and a muffin. There were a good half-dozen left before bed last night, and I can’t even find the tray they came in.

“Don’t you know this family by now?” when I asked Wolf where the muffins were. “You snooze, you lose when it comes to food.”

Perfect. It’s survival of the fittest in my house, when it comes to muffins.

So, I had no other option.

I had to do it, because my family aren’t mind readers, and hoovered all the muffins.

No other choice.

I had this for breakfast.

Cheesecake. Berry cheesecake. Nom, nom, nom!

Cheesecake. Berry cheesecake. Nom, nom, nom!

Left over cheesecake, from my birthday.

It’s hard to be the one making the noble sacrifice all the time, darn it.

So, so hard.

And yummy.

And today it was. And it was good.

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