Granola.
Granola, why must you mock me?
You look so delicious with blueberries and apples nestled among your clusters of oats. Your promise of organic goodness has my tastebuds all a-flutter. But then I add you to milk and you stab me in the back by tasting like dirt. Despite your dehydrated fruit, I had to eat a chocolate donut just to wash the taste of top soil out of my mouth.
Oh, Granola. I have given you so many, many chances over the years. Sprinkled in my yogurt. Taken along in a ziplock bag on long drives for snacking purposes. And you have been hit or miss, at best. You're usually good when you contain slivered almonds but I can no longer take the chance of encountering you almond-less.
Granola, we are through. I give you back to the loving arms of whatever hippie harvested you. Except for the portion still left in my cereal bowl. I'm giving that to the dog.