I'll eat breakfast when I'm retired

Two weeks ago I devoted myself to a little project—a better breakfast—that I would take time and care to craft and consume slowly, in a stationary manner, and then document on this blog. I met my goal with four consecutive, delicious, meticulous breakfasts and posts to catalog them. And you know what happened? Nothing else got done. Zilch. I mean not a damn thing, and I’ve spent this week trying to catch up as a result. There are taxes and bills overcrowding my desk, laundry that has not been washed in an unspeakable amount of time, food articles that have still yet to be fully formed and pitched, tentative vacation plans put on the figurative back burner, and GRE vocabulary that is most sorely neglected. Just look at the inchoate language used thus far in this post! How will I ever expand my use of predicates and pronouns and rather obscure adjectives if I continue to utilize only my currently pedestrian (according to GRE standards) grasp of the English language; sacrificing rhetoric advancement for a more dignified breakfast ensemble? Milk and cereal it is.

This morning I threw a slice of whole wheat bread into the toaster, turned on the iron to press my chef’s coat, and charged into the bathroom to finish blow-drying my hair. We’re lucky I didn’t blow a fuse. By the time I heard the telltale kachung of the pop-up, I could already smell the toast burning, the uneven edges of a scantily cut piece of bread singed and curling at its thinnest corner. I inhaled deeply the scent of carbonized crumbs and continued to press my uniform—ah, I thought, the sweet smell of productivity.

I am working on a new project, however, it’s called a better lunch on the go. I’m starting by dredging up an old classic: the sandwich.

Today’s lunch: roasted eggplant and tempeh on whole wheat toast with fresh basil and arugula, a smear of ricotta cheese, a sprinkling of dried rosemary, ground sea salt to taste, and a side of pretty plump cherry tomatoes all stuffed in a tupperware and toted to work.