It’s been a rainy day in Florence and by the looks of the rain drops that keep falling and falling, no evening walk for us tonight. It has also been a long day and like all my Saturdays for some time now, it’s my busiest day of the week. While others sleep until 10 am on weekends, I wake up at 7 am and run to teach my first class until midday, break time for about an hour and then run to F.E.S.T.A for rehearsals. I am not complaining though, I too sleep until 10, 30 am everyday while other people work their ass off by that time.
One of the old, but new things I introduced in my life lately is breakfast. Breakfast has become a really pleasant routine for me all of a sudden. As a child, we used to have breakfast everyday in a very organized way. We had to wake up, wash and dress really fast, then we were expected in the kitchen to be fed. Breakfast was a huge deal when I was growing up and under no circumstances you could have skipped that meal, which by the way was also a very substantial one. We use to have eggs, bread, butter, jam, honey, all kinds of cold cuts, cheese… should I go on? I’d better not. It all faded away over the years and by the time I was a teenager, like all teenagers I preferred my sleep more than eating in the morning. By the time I went to the University, I realized that when you wake up at 3 pm, anything you eat at that point, can’t be called breakfast anymore as the others around you are already getting ready to have dinner. Thus, the importance of breakfast and having it was completely lost from my daily routine, being replaced with a cappuccino or good case scenario something sweet. I have always lectured D about trying to eat our meals together as a family more often and that breakfast should take its rightful place into our lives, but, we had always agreed on it and then just forget all about it by the next morning. Last week though, I have decided. I woke up early in the morning and had a nice breakfast alone (I tried to wake them up but all I got were some grunts); not like the breakfasts I used to as a kid, but God forbid I would eat that much s..t in the morning anymore. The first morning I felt awful , alone in the kitchen, with nothing to do but to stare at the walls and chew, but after a few days I started loving it and use it as my time alone to do anything I want; so now breakfast means time to read for my pleasure only.
This morning, while holding my piece of bread in one hand and turning the pages of my book with the other, I scolded myself for not doing this sooner. Who knows, maybe in a couple of weeks I will also convince the other two lazy housemates I have, to join me and we will each enjoy our books or newspapers.
Meanwhile, Florence is under bad weather arrest and there is nothing more I would like right now than an apple and cinnamon tea, a midget next to me in bed, both cuddling under the blanket and a nice book of children stories to read to her. Except for the tea I have it all at the reach of my finger tips, so why waste anymore time: it’s cuddling in bed and reading time for us!