This is what I dream of weekday mornings when I'm half-listening to NPR in the car.
It's also what comes to mind when I'm sipping coffee in front of my computer, procrastinating before a deadline. (At least I'm sitting in front of my computer. Technically, my fingers are on the keys.)
This is what I dream of when I'm missing breakfast for the umpteenth morning.
This is why I buy those local, free-range, organic eggs that cost me more than the anonymous dozen that line the supermarket's refrigerated wall.
I'm not trying to be smug. I'm just trying to feed myself.
Something good. Something really worth savoring on the mornings I'm not commuting, loading up on caffeine or stressing about work.
Is worth my money? Is it worth my 8 minutes to mind the water as it gently boils and to add that precious egg? To mend the toast slices with soft butter? To pinch more salt than I will ever need for one precious egg. To plate, serve and clean up after just one person?
I'll get back to you on that ...
First, I have an egg to enjoy on a blessed quiet morning.