Dear Readers, it's finally come to this. It took me five months to get here, but it happened. Today, I woke up from a spontaneous afternoon siesta and realized it was time for dinner. Upon inspecting the choices for a decent meal in my fridge (eggs, bread, potatoes, tomatoes... Tupperware with questionable surprises), I intentionally opted for the following: scrambled eggs and a potato.
I made breakfast. For dinner. I made breakfast for dinner!
Now I know some of you are wondering what the big deal is... but please, hear me out.
As I sit here eating and typing away at this entry, I feel a delayed sense of satisfaction. I remember my friends in university -- the ones who lived on campus -- eating such meals as a ritual. Every night, the options were take-out, ramen noodles or breakfast.
Having never experienced that, save for the times I'd go to a restaurant and knowingly order the 'all day breakfast' special, this feels like a small victory.
I think I get it though. You know, the whole idea of cooking breakfast when in doubt? Breakfast is... easy! We almost always have eggs in the fridge. And eggs can be cooked in more ways than we can count. It makes sense.
In any case. A small triumph for a newbie out on her own in the big, wide world.
Or perhaps, this could be the beginning of bad behaviour? I start off by breaking rules concerning meals, and the next thing I know I'm. . . ahem!
A delayed reaction, no doubt... but a joyous one for now, nonetheless!