It is one of the first cold mornings of my new life in San Francisco. The fog has rolled in, blanketing my window with thick white clouds. It looks like it will be a sweater and socks day, a curl up under a blanket and read day.
So far I have been eating yogurt, granola, and maybe a bit of fruit for breakfast. But a day like today calls for something warm. I dream of oatmeal, warm milk, even crisp toast that melts a tab of butter instantly. But I only have coffee, and sadly only enough coffee for one cup! (Mental note to self: go to grocery store today!)
Nevertheless I curl up with my coffee, black and hot, and laced with just a dab of milk and sweet vanilla sugar. I sip and sip, hoping to get warm. I am also hoping for breakfast inspiration. I could cook polenta yes, and dress it with maple syrup. I could eat a leftover pumpkin tamale, the one I was saving for another meal. I could eat eggs -- wait, no eggs. I boiled the last two yesterday.
I wish I had enough milk to warm it and pour it over cereal, but I don't. There's nary a tablespoon in the small container I bought last week.
My stomach is beginning to growl and it seemed inevitable that I'll eat yogurt for breakfast this morning. Yogurt followed by a hot shower, perhaps?