I got a slap in the face type of breakfast awakening the other day. Before I tell you about it let me say that I do not hold breakfast to higher standards than all your other usual meals, but I do believe breakfast is essential to be, or at least act like, a normal human being.
Eating a late breakfast sits on the verge of not having food at all: symptoms of non-human activity begin on an empty stomach around 9am (keep in mind I wake up around 6am most days). So when we caught up with a friend around 10:30am, I was hungry. I couldn’t get food off my mind so instead of greeting him, I asked if he had breakfast yet.
“Yes, but a long time ago.”
Wanting to live vicariously through him I was all like, “OMG, you’re SO lucky. Where did you go?”
To which he replied, “Oh, I just had leftover bolognese at home.”
Great. I was starting to hallucinate.
“I’m sorry. What did you have?”
“Leftover Bolognese. It was so good. So much better when you let it sit for a few days.”
I felt my lips curl into a smile, the first step of the laugh that was coming as a reaction to the joke. Just in time I realized it wasn’t a joke and I was the only one smiling. I quickly fixed my face and nodded like oh yea morning bolognese. That old thing. Thankfully the conversation turned to something else and the subject never resurrected itself anywhere other than my own head.
I can’t think of a time I’ve ever eaten dinner (especially Italian) food for breakfast or leftovers, for that matter. I have a feeling though that this could be one of those subjects where I’m actually the complete weirdo who doesn’t do the thing that everyone else does and doesn’t even know it.