Dear Friday Bagels,
I know you don't mean any harm. You're brought in by a fabulous office manager, all warm and tastefully arranged on a plastic platter in the kitchen. Egg bagels, pumpernickel, whole grain, poppy seed ... and the ultimate: everything bagel.
You are round and soft, anchored on either side by cream cheese and butter. You call to me as I sit at my desk:
"Kerri ... hey! Come over and maybe have a half?"
But Friday Bagels, you are not my friend.


















