If it weren't for King County I would be living in blissful ignorance of the fatty muffin I've been eating each morning for the last two years. My morning goes like this: I wake up, I stumble down the stairs while pulling my clothes on, I look in the mirror and go "ugh," I go to the garage, I start the car, I drive to Tully's, I mumble the words, "Almond Poppy Seed Muffin," I groggily consume each muffiny bite, I sip coffee, I go home, I shower, I am Sandy again for another day.
Enter King County.
So today I do all the above the very same way, except this time I say, "Where's that nutritional information you guys are supposed to provide starting yesterday by King County ordinance?" The skinny, tattooed, man/boy goth barista who obviuosly needs no calorie information sorts behind the counter for the white notebook. I open right to the page: Almond Poppyseed Muffin: 660 calories.
King County, Mean County. My precious Poppyseed muffin. My morning love. My passion. My rock. My daybreak. Even a donut, even an apple fritter has fewer calories than thee.
"You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free." So I am now free from my favorite muffin. I see it drifting away now, like in a weightless environment. The tiny seeds, the almonds, the delectable bready morsels are floating in the air just out of my reach. Gone.
O ye politicians, ye takers of muffin, ye doers of good. See what ye hath wrought.
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Muffin tops indeed. Although it would be a fabulous item to donate to a food bank like NWH. I know Starbucks donates unsold goods daily but I don't know about Tully's.
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