Pinterest Fail

I'm a pretty typical 20-something lady. I live for fall, have had pizza rolls for dinner a time or two, and am certifiably addicted to Pinterest.

My house is full of mason jars and gallery walls, I spent months planning my son's first birthday party, I have a handmade wreath for every occasion, I have so many recipes saved that I could probably fill several recipe books, and every one of my boards has a cutesy name. By the way, how have they not released a Pinterest's Favorite Recipes collection yet? I mean, I know you can just pin all the stuff, but YOU KNOW people would buy the heck out of that book. And you know that everyone's mom will see it at Barnes and Noble and think, "hmm, I've heard my daughter/daughter-in-law/niece talk about Pinterest. I bet she would enjoy that." The thing would sell, I just know it. But digress.

Today my unit at work is having a breakfast. I was recently transferred to this office and haven't had an oppurtunity to cook yet. I always cook for work functions. Always. My first dish in this office had to wow. I scoured my "The Most Important Meal of the Day" and searched "brunch potluck" for days before I found the perfect recipe, Sausage Biscuit Bites. Sausage, cheese, biscuits, AND syrup?! I was so excited! So imagine my chagrine when I remembered at 10:30 last night, while reading my last chapter of my book before bed, that I was supposed to cook. And I had no ingredients. AAnd I certainly didn't have the energy to get up, change into something that wasn't gnome-covered pajama pants, go to the store, buy my ingredients, come home, actually make the dish, and then let it cool a little before packing it up and going to bed. Oh, and did I mention that this breakfast was entirely MY IDEA?!

So this morning I left the house before the sun, Paul, and Xander woke up and went to Food Lion where I purchased yogurt, strawberries, and granola for deconstructed yogurt parfaits (I've been watching a lot of Top Chef on Hulu lately and have been looking for an excuse to call something deconstructed). The strawberries cost  $4, which is insane. Earlier this summer I could have bought 2.5 cartons for $4. But there I stood at 7 AM with my $4 not-quite-ripe strawberries, because I spent my weekend at the park and at a birthday party and at an early anniversary lunch (4 years in 3 days! Woop!) and teaching Xander how not to pick up and throw a plate, and going on a very high school-esque dinner and football game date with my husband. So  I guess when I look at it that way, yogurt parfaits instead of sausage biscuit bites don't sound so bad.