Tuesday, August 17, 2010

There’s only one way to explain what happened back in February, during my festival of oatmeal, and it’s temporary insanity. The idea, best as I can recall, was to resolve the issue of breakfast for a whole year in one fell swoop, a harebrained plot that resulted in cramming 960 packets of Quaker’s finest into my pantry. I’m down to precisely 716 packets now, having just prepared a hearty bowl of Apples & Cinnamon to accompany tonight’s post, and clearly I’m behind.

I don’t know why I persist. Perhaps it’s an unspoken commitment I’m honoring, a secret covenant I’ve established with oats. Maybe part of me believes this is all in service of some wretched, Dickensian narrative I’m spinning, where porridge is a necessary prop. But that would be disingenuous because, let’s face it, I’m living in yuppie central here. All I can tell you is I likely won’t be repeating this buying pattern anytime soon, and there are mornings when my thoughts stray to other staples, like toast. Toast! And eggs. Bacon, even.

A head cold is imminent–I can feel it knocking on the door–so let’s adjourn for the evening. The main purpose of tonight, I suppose, was to tell you I’m having Apples & Cinnamon, an exotic flavor I plucked from the “Variety Pack.” Usually my routine consists of Maple & Brown Sugar, so this choice should speak to my ability to spice it up or, more appropriately, Cinnamon & Spice it up, which was yesterday.