Breakfast

It seems the storm was for everyone else except around here. We had some wind and rain, nothing to get exiceted about. I wrote a story about breakfast and will post it on my other blog. http://originalmagazineads.com/flashfiction/
Since it is so close to the truth, I'll post it here also.

Raisin Bread Toast

Mmm! Morning again. At least I'm on the right side of the grass. With my head still a bit foggy, I hear the sounds of my wife busy making her breakfast. I smell raisin bread toasting. Since we don't climb out of bed at the same time, we have the habit to make our own breakfast. This works out well as no one has to wait for someone and each of us may sleep in if desired.

Today I have been sleeping late. Though I could say, I am not sleeping late; this is just my usual time to get up. Christmas is close so it is probably cold outside. Then I remember, the weatherman calls for a very cold day. My mind toys with the idea I could stay in bed longer. Being retired, I can't exactly say my dance card is full. But no, that's the formula for a bad habit so I best get up.

With this decision the door is opened to my first chore, decide on breakfast. I think breakfast comes off as the worse time in the day. Not breakfast itself, but the chore of having to decide what to eat for breakfast. There are too many choices. I could have a bagel, with many assorted toppings. Maybe cereal, but the choices seem endless. Not bacon and eggs, that's my Sunday treat. Then there's the old standby. Toast, and the jams and jellies for spreading on it.

Obviously my wife has decided on raisin bread toast. I like raisin bread toast, but it doesn't like me. The great taste is replaced with the not so great heartburn and indigestion taste. So, pass on the raisin bread. This disappoints me, as I like raisin bread, especially with coffee. I need another choice and I am starting to lean towards a bagel. At this point I could cheat and have a raisin bagel. But why fool myself; the result would be the same.

I wonder if rich people have this same problem. Do they decide what to have or does someone else make the decision for them? Perhaps all the choices have been prepared and laid out on a table. All they do is pick out what they want. I wonder how many choices they would have. Would they just pick at everything? Would they show concern about all the waste?

What about the predictions I heard when I was growing up? Looking ahead fifty years, they convinced us food would no longer remain as it is now. A roast beef meal they affirmed,would be replaced by a pill. Sure, I take a pill every day, but it's Lipitor, followed by a dessert, like Vitamin C and Omega oil. They were partly right, we do take pills.

Feet planted firmly on the floor, I sit on the mattress edge, pondering my naval and the breakfast menu. My mind is yet to be made up. Still rolling the choices, I walk downstairs and see my wife at the kitchen counter making toast. Easy for her. She doesn't seem to have the same problem as I do.

She greets me with a smile. "Good morning dear. I've made you coffee and raisin bread toast for breakfast."