I woke up on Labor day with no sense of wanting to do anything. I had next to no motivation, no desire to get out there and experience a ‘holiday’. People smiling, the muggy weather, none of it made me feel particularly like going out. So I found myself doing something I haven’t done in a while, making a breakfast for one. Usually my breakfast is pretty plain, some yogurt, maybe warming a left over or two. I rarely have motivation for much else.
I used to enjoy cooking for my ex-wife and her father. It made me feel like I had a place in their home. These days home seems like a weird thing for me to say. I don’t really feel like I’m home here either in my condo. There was a time I would cook to relieve stress, to eat with a purpose, now though it’s just for the sake of not eating badly. I hope that in the future I can find that fire again and want to cook for the joy of cooking but until then, it’s just pancakes for one.
