THE NEXT MORNING, I rose early and left Sal all relaxed, hoping to return to sleep - or at least enjoying the opportunity to laze around with nothing scheduled for the day – or at least for the morning. I put on a fresh t-shirt and socks, some clean work jeans. No belt or tools hanging off it, nothing in my pockets. Everything soft and comfortable.
Starting up the coffee, and cooking my usual buckwheat omelet in ghee, the small space was soon saturated with delicious smells. Quietly laying out two table settings at the narrow desk-turned-eatery, I also laid out the butter and home-made jam, with honey and real cream for the coffee. Soon I had enough for a first helping, and was working on the second. A cup of whole milk was at each setting, as well as a mug for coffee.
Sal kept trying to
