The strangest things bring me happiness these days. Today, standing in front of a new range ranks pretty high.
My old one sparked and smoked and sent itself packing several weeks ago. Since then, a three foot space has been waiting in my tiny kitchen.
My grandchildren have explored that space and questioned how we would make bacon.
It’s ok. We can use the microwave.
They seem skeptical. I’ve since proven this as truth, but I know they’ll be delighted to see a stove tomorrow. Really delighted. Little teachers that they are. (And yes, pan fried bacon is much better.)
This gaping space…I smiled at where the real wood floors ended and subfloor extended to the wall after a renovation a few years back. We had oak flooring from my parents’ house…hundred year old oak… and just enough to cover the main “this part will show” floors of this area.
This floor has soon a lot of traffic and will likely see a parade of appliances in years to come because nothing lasts as long as it should. But I digress.
I don’t think I’ve ever waited quite this long to replace an appliance, but I was heading on vacation, then waiting for a sale, then other “fix this nows” competed, then life got busy as it does. Anyway.
I really missed scrambled eggs.
I missed my scrambled eggs because eggs are one food that I really don’t care to eat anywhere else. They never have the same taste or texture or consistency at a restaurant. They are never hot enough.
It’s odd because even though I missed making them, they are not my favorite food. They are quick to make, a good source of nourishment, but I was surprised to discover this was one of the main foods I needed a stovetop to cook, and one of the main foods I kept craving. Microwave eggs? I don’t even want to consider it.
Look. Turn on the burner. Heat a tiny bit of real butter just until it melts. Crack a couple of eggs. Stir them right in. Faster. A minute or so later, perfect breakfast. Salt. Cracked pepper. Satisfying. Hot. Done.
I scrambled and ate those eggs and now give them a place here as a reminder how little things can be satisfying. How we miss them when we don’t have them. How good it is to appreciate a small thing.
How Sundays and scrambled eggs are kinda nice.