Muffin

I found my perspective.

Did I tell you my muffin story? I don't think I did. A week or two ago (fuck this is good wine) I was on my regulated, monitored, constrained union lunch break and I wound up having a half an hour long conversation about muffins. I did not contribute to this conversation so much as I don't bake. Or cook. Or pretty much do anything remotely domestic. So I listened. I listed to them talk about bran buds and steel cut oats and dates and dried fruit and apple sauce and oat bran. Should you make all the muffins at once and freeze them? Or make up a large amount of batter and keep it in the fridge and use it as you need it?

While this went on I recalled the days of yore when I would go for lunch with hot guys and talk about politics, literature, morality and how drunk we got on the weekend. Good, good times. I scoured the tables of the "staff respite" (dude: not making this up) and looked for a pencil that I could put up my nostril so I could slam my head down on the lunch table and end the muffin talk.

Instead I made some inane muffin comments, probably something like "I like a good muffin" or "bran makes me go to the bathroom lots" and returned to work in a daze.

Long story (kinda) short: one of the women that had been in on the discussion, who I have subsequently discovered is a really enjoyable individual, kept mentioning that she forgot to bring me a muffin. I would laugh and shrug it off knowing the mythical muffin would never materialize.

So I bump into her in the "staff respite" this morning and she says, "I brought a muffin for you". I'm a little taken aback. She tells me she's actually brought two: one with a date on it and one that has chocolate Hershey Kisses in it, cause that's what her boys like. I take the one with the chocolate in it, natch.

The point being this: she's a really nice individual, and generous and considerate. And I had my nose out of joint, because for four years I was some downtown bint (lingo courtesy of Overboard) that allowed those four years of coffees and lunches and lunchtime shopping and metropolitan chic to catapult me into the realm of holier-than-thou. Fuck. When did that happen. I. Advocate of do what you like and what feels good.

Wow. So I would like to apologize for that. Love your kids. And your long term marriage. Enjoy JackFM and Boston Pizza. Make muffins. Distribute them to the younger generation that is quite sure they've got it sussed out when clearly, they have no clue what the fuck they're doing.

I missed the mark on that one, fo sho.

I hope that, in ten or fifteen years, when some whippersnapper comes into my life I will treat them with the same kindness that has been awarded to me.

Super good muffin. Hershey Kisses chocolates? Hell yeah.