Le petit déjeuner sur le tatami

I didn’t feel the earthquake, even though I woke up long before it occurred. I was busy getting my room ready for my guest, whom I had invited for breakfast. As I finished washing the last dishes and vacuuming the last corners, I imagined for the briefest moment that this person would forget about the appointment or oversleep and not arrive. After all, invitations to breakfast are quite uncommon—at least in this country, I think. He was amazingly punctual, though. We had French toast with fried bacon, coffee, and juice. I must say that in spite of some people’s disbelief, I do cook quite well, and my French toast is amazing. Conversation flowed in three languages, and breakfast turned into lunch which turned into dinner. He helped me draw the curtains at sunset, heard me play a couple of songs on the guitar before noon, and loved the cheese empanada with sugar (leftover from the ones we had made with my sempai and my neighbor last night).

I might cook again soon. We have plans to go get sushi when the weather gets better.