That day, I woke up miserable. Even though the night before, I had said that I would make a omelet.

Out of tomatoes? I asked. Then I suggested, Jalapeños? Bell pepper? Maybe potatoes

As I went to sleep, I dreamed of all the combinations. I wouldn’t eat the omelet of course, because I hate the yolk and white mixed together into a mush. But the creativity was a nice way to fall asleep.

Then I woke up, unwell. And I said that I was hungry and couldn’t move…and could he, would he make me breakfast. When I turned over an hour later, there was a plate ready and willing.