Well, for an hour. Getting up, rested, on a Sunday morning in Manhattan– not sure when the last time that happened (if ever!).. my man suggested breakfast downtown. Oy, I thought: all the way downtown? We’ll be late getting back to Westchester, late to pick up the boy, late to meet the realtor,… Late late late. Doom and gloom; doom and gloom.
What in the heck was the matter with me?! Breakfast. Downtown. Nice! And it was: the best bacon, deep dark coffee with warm milk, perfect scrambled eggs. I didn’t have to cook. I didn’t have to clean. And being downtown, in a French restaurant across from a cosmopolitan hotel, I got to see and hear all kinds of different languages and styles and people. Totally refeshing and relaxing.
And we weren’t late.