The Problem with English Muffins

The thought of eating breakfast is what gets me out of bed in the morning.

I always wait until I get into work before eating, kind of as a pat on the back for actually making it into work for yet another day.

Sometimes I’ll have a yogurt with fruit, other times a bowl of cereal. If I’m feeling really randy, I’ll have a 100 calorie bagel thin with 1/3 less fat cream cheese.

And sometimes, like today, I’ll have an English muffin.

I love English muffins. Random, I know, but the mere thought of being able to eat an English muffin with peanut butter gets me so excited that I can’t wait to get to work to toast that sucker up, which is why I only have them occasionally, so as to still think of them as a treat.

But, although my strong love of English muffins is hard to outshine, my strong hatred for the kitchen at my office is a very close second.

I hate the kitchen at my office. So much so that the thought of walking in there just to fill up my water cup sometimes gives me so much anxiety, I’d rather stay parched than make the trek.

My idea of the perfect kitchen visit is to get in and get out quickly, preferably in 30 seconds or less, with as little inane chit chat as possible.

Usually, if I keep my head down and eyes averted, this works.

However, if it’s English Muffin Day, my kitchen visit usually turns into an agonizing 10 minute conversation with some nameless co-worker, talking about Boy Scouts, last night’s dinner, or, if we’re really struggling, the weather.

See, the problem is, an English muffin’s toast time is tricky. Not so long that I can go back to my cube for a few minutes, but just long enough that I have to stand in the kitchen, exposed, uncomfortable, and at the mercy of whoever walks in.

The result is usually something like this:

Me: standing in front of the toaster staring at it intently and hoping and praying that whoever walks in doesn’t look at me, recognize me, or say something.

Co-worker: strolls in, coffee cup in hand and stupid conversation-starter at the ready.

Co-worker: (eyes light up) “Hey there Lindsay! Boy oh boy some weather we’re having today, isn’t it? Whew-wee it’s cold out there! I mean, I know it’s February and I say this every day, but geez Louise I couldn’t feel my nose walking to the train this morning!”

Me: (silently hating my beloved English muffin for the moment, because I just know it’s taking an hour to toast on purpose) “…..yes, yes it’s cold.”

Co-worker: “I mean, I told my wife this morning, I said ‘Marta, I just don’t know how it can be so cold for so long’, but you know, I suppose that’s what we hearty New Englanders get for sticking out the winter up here. I’m just so glad I bought myself a real Russian-style burka and hat to keep myself warm! Do you wanna see my real Russian-style hat and burka?”

Me: “Uh, no, no that’s ok.” (c’mon you stupid f’ing muffin.)

Co-worker: “Well, that’s a-ok there Lindsay, I’ll show you another time. But you know, the one thing that keeps me going is knowing I can come on into the office and get myself a nice steaming cup of coffee. Whew-wee, boy do I love my coffee. I stayed up late last night watching Star Wars, so this cup is much needed, yessiree, it sure is! Do you like Star Wars, Lindsay?”

Me: “I’ve never seen it so, um, no?” (Crap. Wrong thing to say. PS- Note to self, I’m buying a new f’ing toaster for this damn kitchen.)

Co-worker: “WHAT? NO? Oh lordy Lord, let me give you every conceivable reason I can think of why you should watch Star Wars. 1.) It’s awesome! 2.) Sometimes it’s fun to dress up as Yoda 3.) Space is so cool! 4.) I think I really AM Luke’s father 5.) The plot of the movie…..(trails off into a description of the movie plot that is way beyond my understanding this early in the morning.)

Me: (staring dumbly at toaster, slowly giving up my will to live and my love of English muffins dying a slow, painful death.)

At long last, my English muffin pops up, toasty brown and waiting for immediate consumption, and I always make a hasty retreat back to my cube, silently vowing that I will never, never eat another English muffin because no matter how good they taste, they’ll never be worth the price of having to deal with mind-numbingly stupid conversations in the kitchen at 9 in the morning.

But then I take a bite and all my inhibitions melt away.

Oh English muffins, how I love you.

So, the cycle begins again.

And this, my friends, is the problem with English muffins.