Anatomy of a good morning

By Allison Freeman
Collegian Reporter
October 4, 2006

Beep, beep, beep. I glance at my alarm clock—8 a.m. I hop out of bed. I’m running on two hours of sleep, but none of that matters, because it is blueberry pancakes day at the B&G, and quite frankly, I’d do just about anything for breakfast food.

Breakfast. It’s the reason I get up in the morning. The B&G may have self-serve waffles, but they can’t compare to my idea of the ideal breakfast. Allow me to explain. My ideal breakfast would go something like this. It would be served in bed. Oh, and it would be raining because I feel less guilty about lounging around and stuffing my face all day if I have an excuse to not venture outside.

I can see it now. In walks this cute little Mrs. Potts-esque maid pushing a cart full of every single breakfast food I have ever desired. I stare at this spread of breakfast goodness and squeal with delight. Piled atop silver trays are fresh, warm donuts, frosted in every color of the rainbow. Aside from the donuts are mounds of chocolate chip muffins from the Union bakery. Those muffins are a little slice of heaven. Trust me, I know. This is coming from a girl who based part of her college selection process on these muffins.

There I sit, breakfast food coming at me from every angle. To my left is a stack of stuffed French toast from IHOP, dripping in blueberries and smothered with fresh whipped cream. To my right is a chef with a thick French accent and a pointy black mustache who is lecturing me on fine French cheese while making me a bacon omelet. I’m not exactly sure how he got into my bedroom with a grill, but then again, I don’t have a maid either. So I’ll just go with it.

I sigh, leaning back against the pillows and smile as Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World” starts playing inexplicably from inside my walls. I wonder how my life could get any better when the door opens and in walks Dr. McDreamy from Grey’s Anatomy, pushing a soft-serve ice cream machine. I die a little inside, because I think I must be in heaven. He grins and offers me some chocolate soft serve for my waffles. I look at him and think, Alas, it must be love! How often is it that a girl gets both a hunky doctor and a soft-serve ice cream machine?

Okay, okay so that never happens, but this is my ideal breakfast, so I can have whatever I want. Is it time for breakfast yet?

freemana1@lasalle.edu