Behind the curtain

I threw a very small ham steak in the skillet while I chopped a jalapeño from my garden into tiny bits. I stirred three eggs with the peppers and added some small bacon pieces from a jar. The real kind, not the artificial bacon bits. I flipped the ham and dropped it on my plate. I threw a little butter in the hot ham skillet and when it was melted and foamy I poured in the eggs. After a quick scramble I plated the eggs with the ham, sprinkled a little shredded co-jack cheese on top of the eggs and hobbled over to the table. The coffee was hot, the glass of milk was cold and breakfast was fit for a king. 

My kitchen is not large. The sink is on one wall with the stove, pantry, and refrigerator opposite. The right wall is cabinets and counter. The left is open to the family room and small eating area. The dining room we don’t use is behind the right wall. Luckily, there’s an island in the middle. Things are spaced just right where I can use the counters and island as sort of permanent crutches, where I swing around from sink to stove to island prep without too much trouble. Still, I’m hopping and swinging around on one leg. I can just reach the breakfast table from the island. 

I cleaned the mess. I balanced precariously on one leg as I loaded the dishwasher. Sated, tired, and done I grabbed my coffee, mounted my knee scooter and rolled over to the couch. 

I picked up my iPad and started typing. “I threw a very small ham steak in the skillet...”.