Ladies and gentleman, thanks to the immaculately fabulous taste of housemate Hector, my breakfasts have been upgraded.
My schedule requires me to madrugar twice a week, rising at the illustrious hour of 6 AM – during which Madrid is still fully entombed in its sheath of night. Yet the pain of rubbing the crusty remnants of sleep from my protesting eyeballs is soothed over: I am not alone. The Lego buddy is from Zaragoza, and he has 16 possible facial configurations in all. The pleasure of a slew of combinational possibilities is not to be scoffed at.
But soft! What spoon through yonder eggshell breaks?
It is the egg, and the yolk is the sun!
Arise, fair yolk, and kill the envious madrugada,
who is already sick and pale with grief
that thou her maid art far more creamy than she.