Last Tuesday, I ate peanut butter at the toast for breakfast. I know this because I come breakfast at home last Tuesday, and if I’m home, I eat peanut butter on toast. It has been my regular breakfast for about two years now, and I am still getting used to the novelty.
Before shaking things up and switching to peanut butter, I ate cottage cheese on toast for the better part of two decades. Now, before you accuse me of being unimaginative or boring, please note: this is my home breakfast. At a cafe, I am far more adventurous. I have scrambled eggs in the room.
I adore scrambled eggs! I just can’t be bothered making them. If they magically appeared in my kitchen of a morning, I would eat them every day.
My lunches, too, are a tad predictable. I am a person of simple tastes. If I’m home, I’ll have a tuna salad sandwich, which is a fancy way of saying “tuna and lettuce between bread”.
At a cafe, I’ll choose a chicken salad sandwich, which may be fancy or not, but is definitely fancier than tinned tuna.
I may not be a gourmet, but I definitely like food and I thoroughly enjoy my boring breakfasts and dreary lunches. I just don’t enjoy making food, cleaning up after food or making decisions about food. And, so, it’s easier to eat the same things every day.
I realize that some people like variety and choice. I watch my friends peruse menus and furrow their brows, and order different meals every time we go out to eat. (I, too, peruse the menu and furrow my brow, but that is purely for decorative purposes before I order a chicken sandwich.)
“Really? You don’t know your own tastes by now? You’re a grown-ass woman! Come on! ”
I admire my friends’ capriciousness and whimsy as they make a seemingly random selection from the menu. On the other hand, as I watch them debate the virtues of a beef pie over a mezze plate, or a leek risotto over a Caesar salad, I think, “Really? You don’t know your own tastes by now? You’re a grown-ass woman! Come on! ”