Ode to the cinnamon roll

I know it's wrong, but I can't help myself. I can't get you out of my head. I can still taste you, and I need you again. I tried to get to you last week, but the kids were with me. They don't understand why I want you so much. How can they know the pleasure you bring? Finally, this evening I'm free for just an hour. It's more time than I need. Tonight, we'll be together again. Just me and that sweet cinnamon flavor. Oh cinnamon roll, how did you work your way into my life? I've eaten so many cinnamon rolls in my day, but there's something different about you. Maybe it's the iced coffee I drink with you. Damn you, Panera and your magical Thursday evenings of cinnamon rolls! You're no good for me! You're full of calories, white flour, and sugar! You do nothing but push me into larger pants, but I can't say no. I must have the sweet, cinnamon, goodness; Feel that first tender bite of pastry. Smell the heady scent of cinnamon. Cinnamon roll, you will be mine.

And that, folks, is what happens when Jon gets me a laptop for my birthday. I can now write again without being interrupted by the kids and their incessant need for Minecraft, Spotify, or email. You get to read about my sinful desire for cinnamon rolls.