Sorry to say, someone tried to step to me today about breakfast:
I am perfectly willing to get the same thing over and over again for breakfast during the week, because breakfast is a comfort food for me, not a delicacy. However, when I go out to eat, then I like to shake things up a bit so that I am not always ordering the same thing.
And I think that you’re just being a grump, cause when you were making breakfast for yourself you would make the same thing over and over again for weeks at a time. THEN you would switch to something new. Maybe you’re just cranky in the mornings and that’s why you don’t want anyone making you BF.
I wasn’t having any of THAT noise:
OK, I don’t expect a plebe like yourself to understand the symphony that is breakfast, but to accuse me of making the same thing over and over? This way is madness, Anastasia. I am a breakfast artiste; I won’t be having the proletariat besmirch my adroit use of breakfast foods. When I was in grade school, was it not I who started the now famous “Breakfast for Lunch” menu items? (it was). The stovetop is my canvas; the ingredients are my paints; and I weave breakfast foods ne’er dreamed before by mortal man.
Here will be the standing rule, from henceforth – no one shall make me breakfast except me, unless we go to the diner. I don’t want anyone to make my breakfast. It is mine and mine alone to make and eat. I commune with a higher power when my eggs first hit the sizzling frying pan. Even if I choose to NOT eat breakfast, it is a breakfast of sorts. I know I just blew your mind with that bit of Zen, but keep up.
You can choose to partake of my breakfast efforts, if you wish. Or you can go back to eating your mother’s “comfort food.” It’s only the difference between Renoir and Thomas Kinkaide, though I see by your comment of “I am perfectly willing to get the same thing over and over again for breakfast…” that you prefer the Painter of Light to a true artist.
I think we know who’s boss here.