The night before I had the best breakfast ever, I was babysitting. The girl I was with was about ten, and her parents were out of town on business for the night. I was given the couch to sleep on in their lofty living room. The not-so-cozy McMansion sat on top of a big, steep hill, and the wall of windows in the living room had no curtains. I didn't sleep much.
In the morning, I had to be at the other end of the city to work.
I knew what time the girl would be leaving for school, and I had plenty of time to stop by home afterwards for a shower and some breakfast. But her school bus was late enough that one of the moms at the bus stop called the school. It eventually showed up, but I ended up skipping my stop at home.
Driving to work in the rain, I was cold and clammy. An early morning with no hot shower and little sleep felt like a bad rerun of college. When I was close to work, however, I realized I would have about 15 minutes to spare. So, I stopped at the Kroger en route, and bought a lemon pie and a little cup of vending machine coffee. Then I sat in my car in the parking lot, and had just about the best breakfast I can remember.
