Every morning, I’ve been having oatmeal for breakfast. Which is odd because I have never liked oatmeal in all my life. But somehow, I’m suddenly in love.
So the story goes like this: I was gazing into my oatmeal the other morning, (I wasn’t quite awake yet) and I thought to myself, I should at least have something pretty to eat my oatmeal from. Then all I could think about was thrifting. For days. When I finally got to steal away, (all three boys were napping) there were no pretty bowls to be found. I did however find this fun little tea cup and breakfast sized saucer. (There were several, let me know if you want me to pick you one up.)
So the story goes like this: I was gazing into my oatmeal the other morning, (I wasn’t quite awake yet) and I thought to myself, I should at least have something pretty to eat my oatmeal from. Then all I could think about was thrifting. For days. When I finally got to steal away, (all three boys were napping) there were no pretty bowls to be found. I did however find this fun little tea cup and breakfast sized saucer. (There were several, let me know if you want me to pick you one up.)
I love it.
And it was then that I vowed to make something beautiful for the first time I ate off of it.
But, every morning I have awoke, and instinctively made oatmeal, and not realized what I was doing until I sat to eat it and once again found myself staring at a plain bowl.
Damn.
(and why am I the queen of parentheses today?)
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