flash backs

So Friday morning I was having a hard time keeping up. I dragged myself to work, I dragged myself thru the morning routine at work.... and I felt, in general, that I was accomplishing.... well... nothing.
It was super cold, and snowing.
All I wanted was a nice warm breakfast.
Warm and soothing...
Warm and ... pickles! I wanted it quick.

So I dredged thru the cupboards and found cream of wheat... creme de ble....
mmmm. Warm, milky, brown sugary, lumpy greatness. I slipped it into a tall bowl and popped it into the microwave.....

Lets pause for a second here and recount the last three mornings at work.....

Lesley decides she wants cream of wheat. Lesley starts to make it... and realizes that she has just 4 minutes before she must again play taxi. OR Lesley starts to make it, someone starts screaming, she fixes whatever it is that has caused the screaming... and is left ready to scream at the microwave which now is flooding boiling cream of wheat swamp-monsterish bubbles everywhere. (Roomie has a problem boiling milk on the stove... I have the same problem, but in the microwave).


Unpause:: I glanced at the clock... 6 minutes till taxi time, I can do it... it only takes 5 to cook.... uh.. yeah... guess I'll eat it when I get back?

And then the flashback...... (insert "I dreamt of Africa sound" track here)
Walking down a hill, early morning, fog close to the ground, the chill of night still on my shoulders. The smell of sugar cane, old dust and petrol. The sounds of children in the village waking up, mammas calling for chores to be done... and at the edge of the clearing, a large pot of something boiling... something warm and filling... creamy, corn porridge, the steam rising as it's poured into cups...

JOLT FROM FLASHBACK::
poured... cups??? That's right... poured into cups....
so... if I add extra milk.....
6 minutes later, I in the van, taxi-ing the individuals to their work places, a steaming travel mug in one hand... I am content.