The breakfast method / Me in Disgrace

There are, I suppose, many ways to make reparation to your father for completely obliterating his trust and authority. I like the breakfast method.

He's up about 6:20, on average. He'd better leave around 6:35-ish, so there isn't much time for a healthy breakfast despite his reputation as the Fastest Showerer in the West.

I'm in disgrace forever.

And I can't make a poached egg to save my life (which is at an end).

But I make a nice over-easy and toast is easy. Choosing a beautiful glass for milk is my specialty! Anyway it's the thought that counts!

SIR: "Good breakfast this morning, Milena."

ME IN DISGRACE: "I know. Hecka good."

SIR: "There are sandwiches to be made for lunch."

ME IN DISGRACE: "Surely. And mom makes them."

SIR: "You're making them now."

ME IN DISGRACE: "What is your opinion of the weather?"

SIR: "Show up bright and early or you're dead."

Even if I ran away from home to raise bastard identical twins who look exactly like TallDarknFrizzy, there is no way in hell (nor on earth) that I'm getting up to make sandwiches. That's wife work. And I've never even had a boyfriend!! Hell no. I am still a female human being with rights.

My plan instead is to find a woman with five kids and an abusive husband. I will offer her shelter in our basement, and give up my bedroom if they can't all fit down there. In exchange for their room and board they shall take over the housework. Perhaps some of her children can find work, and pay our gas bills along with the cellphone charges.

Then Sir will have nothing to complain about, as multitudes of people will be up at 6AM, poaching eggs and constructing sandwiches, while I text and relax in Ungatribe's bed (which she'll be only too happy to share with me).

It's easy to solve even the worst problems, including world hunger.

But not likely.

Oh well.