Scrambled Eggs

A brain is a funny thing. This mass of seemingly useless gunk can calculate massive amounts of information (still not surpassed by the computer, but its only a matter of time so I hear). I often have eggs for breakfast, but not this morning, not yet. This morning feels different, maybe in a good sense. An ordinary wake up cycle is surely a predecessor to an ordinary cycle of events. But for the time being, my stomach growls and responsibility howls. I should be somewhere other than here, but due to my lack of planning and organizational skills, and my body’s tolerance to the sound of a cell phone alarm, responsibility takes a back seat this morning to a luke warm plate of massively produced, probably powdered, scrambled eggs.

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