My coffee was watery. The only food in the fridge…a slice of tiramisu I bought with pasta last night but was too tired to eat.
Nothing brought me more joy this week than eating that slice of tiramisu for breakfast.
It was silly, gleeful joy. Reminded me of being a kid when my grandparents would let us have ice cream before dinner on our birthdays.
I felt kind of ridiculous trying to get the perfect shot of my crappy coffee and collapsed tiramisu. But I found so much joy in the silliness of it all. My expensive camera, documenting the most imperfect breakfast.
Sometimes joy shows up in the weirdest places.
Sometimes it’s just tiramisu for breakfast.
Because…why not?
We build all these rules around how we’re supposed to live. Tie ourselves to structure and shoulds. But real joy doesn’t always follow a plan.
Of course I wouldn’t do this every day, but a little rule-breaking now and then is a reminder that I’m alive. And I get to choose what I do with my life.
Even if it’s dessert at 10 AM and silly photos of collapsed cake.
