I went to get a bagel out of the vending machine in the building across the street from my work. I'm pretty sure my milk is bad, so I couldn't have cereal, and I wanted a bagel.
Excitedly, I walked up to the machine and peered inside at the vast array of edible substances sitting happily within their slots. And then I look at the bagels. Plain. Honey and wheat. Plain. Honey and wheat. My eyes scanned back over the bagels three more times, hoping that they had read incorrectly, when to my surprise, there were three more rows of bagels right in front of me that my silly eyes had missed. Honey and wheat. Plain. Plain.
I ask you all in earnest, what good is a plain bagel? Who on earth likes a plain bagel? You might as well eat 9 pieces of white bread--it's the same nutritional value and a thousand times the carbs. Awesome.
"Fine," I sighed to myself. "I guess I'll just get a honey and wheat bagel. I'm hungry." I made my selection; the bottom slot opened up so my delicious bagel could fall into the bottom. Speaking of, I love that there was a shield between the vending and the bottom pick-up slot in this machine, as though somebody with really long arms is going to sit on the ground, reach his little thief hand up, and snatch a Lunchable. Anyway, I retrieved my honey and wheat bagel, only to see that the bagel behind it was a blueberry one. Feelings of disappointment shot through my heart--much like the kind of disappointment one feels when he or she wakes up one minute before the alarm goes off. If only someone had gotten this before me, so that the blueberry bagel would have been at my disposal. Then I might have achieved the breakfasty satisfaction I had hoped for this morning.
So here I sit in honey wheat bagel-caused melancholy which is intensified by the miniscule amount of cream cheese they put in those foil Philadelphia packets. I squeezed that packet like a bad zit (similar levels of desperation drive me forward), but to no avail. There is not enough cream cheese on my unwanted honey wheat bagel.