I attempted to make breakfast last Sunday after one too many Honey Bunches of Oats with strawberries every morning. As I was as acquainted as a foreigner with our kitchen, it took me some time to conjure something edible but I was very proud of myself. Voila, my tuna sauteed in garlic, onion, and tomato with vegetable bread and green tea:
My mom was weirded out when she saw me bustling around the kitchen when she came in. Who wouldn't? I'm not exactly the world's best chef (nor the most organized). It didn't help that she came in right at the moment where I was freaking out because I accidentally dumped the onions on the frying pan therefore spraying myself with scalding oil. Don't laugh, I have the battle scars to prove it.
It was a nice, happy feeling making my own breakfast. I wish I have the luxury to do it every morning. Oh, who am I kidding? Every Sunday morning, maybe. I don't think I have enough energy to clean up the mess I make every time I attempt to cook. Kiss kiss.
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