French Toast Saves Lives

I had an intense craving for french toast this morning.  I am feeling sullen and bruised and crabby, and french toast seemed like the only way to save the day.  I fought it for a while, and my friend suggested I go to the grocery store for some bananas so I could make a healthy smoothie.  Has she met me?  Is she high?  Doesn't she know that the grocery store is the worst place in the world besides the dentist's office??  So I decided, eff it, I'm going for french toast.

I went to the little place around the corner from me, and I sat down at the counter and the nice lady said, "French toast with sour dough?" and I said Yes please, and then I thought about this:  Is this just the charming feature of small town life, where the purveyor of fine breakfast items knows exactly what I want when I sit down? Or does it indicate that eating french toast, alone, and that I am known for this means that I have a problem I should explore?  Is this akin to drinking, alone, in the morning?

Hello, My name is Bored, I'm a french toast addict.  Hi, Bored!

Seriously, it felt like I had gone into a bar at 9:30 in the morning and ordered a bourbon and water, hold the water.  And I don't even like bourbon.

I decided to order a smoothie too, though, so I got the menu back and chose something with orange juice.

And you know what?  It worked!  I actually feel better now.  They say exercise makes you feel better, and I had taken a long walk with the dog before breakfast, but the only thing that made me feel better was delicious french toast.  See?  No need for endorphins, just maple syrup.

Sweet Elixir of Life