Strange Epiphany, possibly brought on by the heat and packing

I woke up this Sunday morning around 9, sleeping later since I haven't been sleeping well, and pottered upstairs so I could start my little morning routine: start coffee, grab the paper, pour some cereal, slice some peaches, settle in to read news, blogs, and emails. (Yes, Megarita is currently single. But really, this particular routine is rarely altered at my house. Just delayed a bit.)

I had a strange moment when I realized it was Sunday. I said to myself, seemingly out of nowhere, "god, I hate brunch."

An arugula salad immediately makes a meal brunch.
As does that creepy poached egg, to be honest.

I said this somewhat muffledly, since I was cramming my craw with a mixture of cheerios, grape nuts, and peaches. But I mean it. There have been so many Sundays when I've had to wait until 11 am or something godawful to eat breakfast because of brunch. Then you have to stand in line, still pre-caffeinated way after the time limit--which results in a sleepy headachy feeling that cannot be rectified after a certain hour--and wait for people to eat their foods, which are neither lunch nor breakfast. No, I do not want eggs benedict and a bloody mary. I want a burger and a beer, for god's sake. It's 1 pm! And a burrito crammed with eggs and peppers is not breakfast. It's odd and tastes funny and makes me feel sickly.

I'm a breakfast girl. In the summer I live on cereal and fruit or maybe yogurt, but in the cooler months I'm the queen of whipping up some scrambled eggs with cheese, some pancakes, a helping of french toast, some bacon or sausage, or even some crepes if I'm feeling fancy. And I make delicious breakfasts! (Except for fried eggs. I stink at those. But they're nasty, so too bad.) I'll even eat random stuff like the British baked beans and tomato and bangers and mash and happily snarf it down. The difference between this and brunch? I can eat it by 9 am.

So is this just me? I have no idea why this huge antipathy just washed over me this morning, but I am a brunch hater. I wake up ravenous in the morning, usually around 8, almost always by 9, and I need to be fed and watered immediately. I can even go back to bed afterwards, but there's a moment when I need some brekkie. Several boyfriends had to actually invest in little coffee percolators just to make sure I didn't kill them by accident in the morning. (A few, sadly, offered me tea. I had to kill them and then hide the evidence, all before breakfast.)

In other news, packing begins today for the latest move and I have to get back in the classroom later this week. So this anger? Really not about the brunch. Not totally. But somewhat.