Are you trying to tell me something here?

I woke up this morning to this email form husband...from what I gather he's a bit upset that we ran out of toaster strudel, but I can't be 100% sure.

An Ode to Toaster Strudel

I woke up today the same as most mornings, to the deafening beep of the alarm clock you for some reason don't hear. I lay there and debated the tasks ahead of me, hating the idea shovelling of the snow that fell yesterday, and another coal inspection. I stumbled out of bed, and crawled blindly into the kitchen. When I got there and saw that the coffee pot was not pre-set I realized that, in fact, there IS a god, and that he wanted to offer me nothing but sadness for the remainder of the day. That is, until I opened the freezer and saw that beautiful orange box with the little dough boy on the front. Ummm, Toaster Strudel. Quick, warm, easy, wonderfully tasty pastry embracing bright red jam. If that's not enough, these breakfast sweets have a self administerable frosting topping, as if to say "Yes, I'm THAT delicious, but YOU can make me even better."

I reached up into the freezer to claim said Strudel as my own, and felt nothing. My hand desperately reached into the bottom of the box. "Perhaps they fell out of the box", I repeated to myself. After nearly 5 minutes of vacant searching I abandoned my quest and turned to the Cheerios. Apparently, the box had been left as a cruel trick to lure me into thinking that life had purpose.

I will miss you Toaster Strudel, even though I never met you.

P.S. kiddo had Cheerios too.

P.P.S. I might be home for lunch.