It's the simple things. <3
A little over a week ago I got 12 grain bread, which I was raised on when I lived with my grandparents, and I've been finishing off the heels. If that wasn't nostalgic enough, this morning I made cinnamon toast for the first time in oh god it's been at least half a decade, with a side of orange-pineapple juice.
...I might have tried to hug my breakfast for tasting so fucking amazing. I swear to god for a moment I was sitting on the old orange masonite counter and kicking the middle-center bread-drawer closed with my bare heels while grandpa wandered around in a bathrobe, sheepskin slippers, his underwear, a stupid yellow hat, and sang "Oh what a beautiful Mooooooorning" to the birdfeeder hanging outside the riverside kitchen window.
Note to self: Do That More Often. And buy more bread.