Each morning when we get up, I make breakfast for Georges. Well, most mornings, because occasionally I'll sleep in or maybe on a Sunday he'll want eggs and bacon. Because when I say I "make" breakfast, what I really mean is: I set up the coffee in the coffee pot and push the button, I set up cups and bowls and plates and spoons and a knife, I pour orange juice into glasses, and I saw an English muffin in half and pop it into the toaster. But making breakfast doesn't usually involve any actual cooking... unless I'm in the mood for pancakes. Which is more of a once-a-month weekend thing for me. Anyway, as much as mornings are not my favorite time of day, I like to get up with Georges on work days and give him a decent breakfast because he doesn't always have time to eat lunch. Yes, it's true: even though lunch is the most sacred meal of the day for most French people and it's a normal thing to have a two-hour lunch break around here, there are times when he skips lunch. Since he does about 75% of the dinner cooking, I have turned...
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