Last Sunday night, my grocery order arrived without my usual breakfast sandwiches.
This ordinarily would not constitute a crisis. Except my little freezer stash of homemade breakfast burritos had also dwindled to nothing, and I knew exactly what Monday morning would look like without some intervention: Wake up. Realize there was nothing easy to eat. Debate whether I had enough time to stop somewhere. Get annoyed that breakfast had somehow become a decision I needed to make before coffee.
