Picture it: you angrily punch the alarm clock and groan loudly to the heavens above your bleary, slowly focusing eyes.
It’s Monday again, so you try to channel your inner Garfield and muster up some sarcastic quip, but the lingering sleepies in your eyes prevent any coherent thought. Oh well, so much for the orange cat. At least you do have leftover lasagna for lunch. Or is it linguini?
Hey! Enough dawdling! You have to go to work!
You stumble and bumble through your morning routine (Pants on right-side-out? Check. Sickeningly black coffee brewing? Check.), even though your mind is still in last night’s dream with Carmen Electra and that piƱata in a jacuzzi. If you’re gonna make it through Johnson’s 9am “productivity jamboree,” you’re gonna need something wholesome, yet satisfying for breakfast.
So you tear open the pantry like Chewbacca tears off arms, and you see the sun smiling back at you. No, not that flaming hot, helium-loving ball in the sky: this is a good sun. The one proudly hoisting twin scoops on your familiar purple box of Raisin Bran Crunch. Continue reading