On balance I prefer having breakfast of my own making and on my own time. The imperturbability is one of those incalculable privileges of retirement and old age. The preparation naturally has to do with my select ingredients; the timing reflects the changeable stirrings of my hunger say between 8:00 am and noon depending on what I ate the night before and when I got out of bed next morning. There is also some tenor to maintenance of routine. Overdoing it at breakfast; that is, too much or too late can ruin the evening meal by killing one’s appetite thus disrupting the otherwise thoroughly predictable soirée of the evening news and rewinds of late night talk shows. Not to mention the equally probable jolt to one’s cautious metabolism. Then you find yourself repeating those annoying words, “I knew I shouldn’t have“. Nonetheless on occasion the ceremony of going out for breakfast is a stimulating and rewarding entertainment. I recall for example our matutinal outings in Key West were accompanied by picturesque, balmy venues overlooking a placid green sea.