Every workday morning, we would sit at our desks, complaining about our growling bellies. And every morning, she would prepare her beloved buttered toast and cup of hot coffee while I moped around craving eggs and sausage (which was always way too complicated to have at my out-in-the-open desk). Eventually, I caved and began partaking in her buttered toast with coffee ritual. And eventually, a taste for buttered toast was acquired.
Now, it's something I'll gladly have. My favorite is when the butter is spread over the entire one side of toast (and I'm talking crust to crust to crust to crust-- ha) and it melts into the bread, making it all soggy while the other side stays crisp. Mmmmm. I wonder if buttering both sides would be overkill . . .

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