I didn’t used to eat breakfast. Back when I cycled to work I would scrape myself out of bed each morning, have a shower, wrap up warm, down a hastily made coffee, then fetch the bicycle from the shed.
Now I’m working from home, breakfast has become a “thing”. The only problem with breakfast becoming a thing is that I’m massively lazy when it comes to preparing food for myself.
The number of steps required to make anything, and the amount of washing up caused have become primary factors in my choice of diet. I joked the other evening that if those metrics were displayed in a cook book, it would become the best selling cook book in the known universe. Well – in this house at least.
For the last several mornings I have been eating marmalade on toast. This choice has been predicated by (a) my body feeling rubbish at the moment, (b) me being clever, and trying to hack my body by filling it with sugar, and (c) we had bread and marmalade in the cupboard.
Who knew that eating marmalade on toast every morning would eventually cause you to hate marmalade though? I think perhaps I need to mix it up with some strawberry jam.
A neighbour countered my choice of marmalade on toast with peanut butter and jam (jelly, for the US audience). While the idea is great, that’s 30% more ingredients involved than just jam on toast. That’s effort.
The only downside to eating colossally sweet, sticky substances for breakfast is what happens if you miss your mouth and they end up on the desk in front of you – because everybody eats breakfast while checking their email, don’t they? Of course I didn’t realise I had missed my mouth. The first clue was when the sleeve of my chunky knit jumper stuck to the desk. And that’s how I found myself washing the desk with kitchen detergent a few moments later.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I have (yet) another cup of tea to go make.
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