I can't remember the last time I had breakfast in bed, but the notion of it is still a romantic possibility. {Maybe it was when I was down with the flu. Pretty unromantic timing, not to mention I had absolutely no appetite!}.
But who REALLY wants breakfast in bed anyway? It can be awkward juggling a tray full of plates + cups, trying to keep it steady on bumpy knees or lumpy covers. It's always messy. Something inevitably gets spilled onto the duvet. Sticky syrup, green tea, runny egg yolks. You might even mistake your bed sheet for a napkin to wipe off that deliciously smoked {and greasy} bacon. hmmmmm......
As much as breakfast in bed sounds like something I should envy, I'd rather stick with our current Sunday morning breakfast ritual. It's at the table, reading the NY Times, drinking tea or coffee, having conversations from the kitchen, easy music humming from the speakers, and breakfast beautifully laid out on plates that sit squarely on a solid surface. That kind of romancing works deliciously well for me.
Buon appetito!
copyright 2010 Alisa Barry
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