03/20/2021
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Tales from the Crypt, No. 28: The Morning
It is morning. I get up and go to the kitchen; I decide to make myself some porridge. I put the milk on to boil and throw the oatmeal in already.
Before I go any further, I jump into the bathroom for a quick shave. But I have not enough shaving soap there, so I stretch the existing soap remains simply with bile soap. This works quite well and smells not quite as mossy as usual.
Shortly thereafter, I go back to the kitchen, and come just in time: the milk boils and I still manage to lift the pot from the plate - the rising milk cap does not come over the edge - Phew, again.... Pscchhhht. Pshhhhht. A few drops obviously made it out after all, dancing hissingly on the glowing plate and rising in fine wisps of smoke. It almost went really wrong.
I put the pot down, remove the sorry milk skin and vigorously stir everything. It can go on. But the olfactory mixture of impro shaving soap and burnt milk goes to my head.
I put down the wooden spoon, open the window and take a deep breath. The smell of wet earth and decaying leaves flows in with the cold air - spring will be here soon, and it has poured heavily during the night. The streets are still wet and the clouds hang low.
I close my eyes and breathe in all those smells. Good morning. Awesome
Before I go any further, I jump into the bathroom for a quick shave. But I have not enough shaving soap there, so I stretch the existing soap remains simply with bile soap. This works quite well and smells not quite as mossy as usual.
Shortly thereafter, I go back to the kitchen, and come just in time: the milk boils and I still manage to lift the pot from the plate - the rising milk cap does not come over the edge - Phew, again.... Pscchhhht. Pshhhhht. A few drops obviously made it out after all, dancing hissingly on the glowing plate and rising in fine wisps of smoke. It almost went really wrong.
I put the pot down, remove the sorry milk skin and vigorously stir everything. It can go on. But the olfactory mixture of impro shaving soap and burnt milk goes to my head.
I put down the wooden spoon, open the window and take a deep breath. The smell of wet earth and decaying leaves flows in with the cold air - spring will be here soon, and it has poured heavily during the night. The streets are still wet and the clouds hang low.
I close my eyes and breathe in all those smells. Good morning. Awesome
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