An Open Letter to My English Muffin

Sometimes things just work out. Sometimes, just when the dark starts pushing in and you don't feel like you will ever see the light again, a bright line cuts through the clouds and reminds you that, yes, everything is going to be alright. Sometimes it's not a light at all, sometimes it's an English Muffin - like this one right here - that gives you the strength to carry on.

Allow me to say this my friend: You. Are. Awesome.

The perfect sponginess as I pulled you from the bag eloquently transferred to perfect golden toasting after a minute-forty-five in the toaster oven. A few sweeps of honey-butter and a light glaze of raspberry (seedless) jam later and suddenly the morning wasn't so bad. Suddenly the world seemed less cold. A few bites into this glorious roll and I realized that no amount of temp related, intern-idot fueled, hypercaffeinated panic could toss a wrench in my gears. Oh, no today is for me, and damn it, it's because of you English Muffin.

You are a credit to your race, and I salute you.