Probably the best course is to talk more about what I'm cooking. I have a great recipe to share with you to-day:Beans and Eggs:
First thing in the morning, I wake up too late to even consider productivity. I keep telling myself that if I get up at 8am, I can probably knock forty-six things off my to do list. Instead, I usually get up at 10am, and accept that at least it's better than noon.
Once up, I am swarmed by a fresh to-do list; items ranging from critical to simple. Every action-possibility fights to be heard first. All at once, I am confronted with everything I am currently screwing up, and everything I will never accomplish. Theoretically, I know how to improve, but it takes me a week to clip my nails, a year to wash my clothes, and only a flash to become furious, which can halt production for an entire day.
The first step is coffee. I try to keep my discomfort to a simmer at least until I have one cup of coffee. If I have an especially nagging thought or task, I jot it down on a post-it note, and flush it down the toilet.
Once I'm drinking coffee, I start to make my lists. While scaling a mountain, you might lose your foot and handholds - afraid of death, you will snap off fingernails and lacerate your hands the bone grasping for anything to slow your fall. Such is the function of my morning lists.
If I'm particularly bitter or concerned about something that's slipping through the cracks, then I try to keep my mouth shut until I've had the first coffee. If I screw up and start to moan, then Kristin will hear it, and she will think that I'm blaming her personally for something, which is only true about half of the time. Being that Kristin is my wife, I need to spare her the foulest of my malarkey to make our adventure seem viable for the long term. Killing two birds with one stone is great until you're the birds, and the stone is your own mouth spraying garbage.
Once I pour my second coffee, I can focus on what really needs to get done now. Usually it's something involving the business that we are "running" from our "home."
An hour later, I am dizzy and acid is chewing through my guts. Then I remember that people need to eat.
½ can of pinto beans; rinsed.
Two eggs; largest size available.
Use a can opener to cut all but half a centimeter of the lid open. Pour out the gloopy water, and rinse the beans until most of the can-water is gone. Pour half the can in a skillet with some butter or oil (optional). Cover the unused portion loosely with tin foil, and place the can in the back of the fridge until it rots.
Once the beans start acting "cooked" you can push them off to the side, and crack the eggs into the other half of the pan. Let the eggs do some cooking, and then break the yolks so you won't even have to try. Mix that around with the beans until there is definitely nothing gloopy anywhere.
Serve in a bowl that you bought for camping, and eat with a fork that you're embarrassed to have bought for camping. Enjoy breakfast while thinking about camping or living in a van, and try not to think about what happens to your rent money after you pay it.