Behold one of the greatest pleasures of my work month: that very special occasion known as “breakfast for dinner”, or in some circles “breakfast for supper”. Always consult your local linguist for proper lingo before discussing cool things.
Tonight was that night for us, a bit of perfect timing for me since I’d had salad for lunch. Don’t get me wrong: fine salad, varied ingredients, fresh quality, but it only whets the appetite through part of the afternoon. Come three p.m. I’m already scrounging through my desk for emergency cheese-‘n’-crackers or stale chips left over from previous months’ birthday pitch-ins. But the premature hunger pangs are worth it if you know there’ll be a feast waiting for you when you eventually get home once you’re done working too much overtime yet again. Thankfully my wife has taken to making each breakfast-for-supper event an extra hearty meal — extra scrambled eggs, extra bacon, just extra, extra, extra. She’s stellar that way.
If you don’t get the magic of the whole “breakfast for dinner” concept, there’s not much I could do to persuade you. Either your eyes sparkle when it happens or they don’t. All I can tell you is it’s the kind of meal that puts a song in a man’s heart.
Midlife Crisis Crossover! 