Biscuits, Biscuits and more Biscuits. Some days you just got to bake'm and weep

I wake up every morning with the best of intentions.  This is the day I strictly follow my diet.

8 am. Sound the trumpets.  Print the flyers.  And capture the flag.  This is the day.

8:30 am.  My Guilty Meter is starting it's Siren call.  Damn.  I am in deep trouble.  My will power is starting to crumble.  And then it happens.

9:00 am.  The Southern biscuits have arrived.  Tall and buttery.
Like the Battle of Chancellorville, the struggle is lost.  At least temporarily.  

Rally round the flag.  I feel a comeback in the making or a second biscuit with jam.