One morning, one Franz, one problem

Oh yes, another Sunday has passed. As I mentioned recently, Sundays are always a little different from the usual weekdays. A Sunday also needs its fixed routines, something different from the usual weekdays, but Sundays shouldn’t be too variable either.

Since the children have left home, my wife is a „single parent“. The saying comes from a former friend, very funny. What’s less funny is that he became friends with Wagenknecht’s theories on vaccination in the Corona era and generally had an anti-American attitude. The Russians had been betrayed, they felt threatened by NATO, well, you know what they say. Or was he just a child of the 60s? It was quite amusing for a while, but at some point you can’t listen to it anymore. At some point I called it „unbearable“ and since then only the „single parent“ joke has stuck with me. As I’ve mentioned before, at some point the channel is full for me, the pressure is mounting, and then I can only quote:

„I’ll let him out the back.“
(Franz Beckenbauer, when asked how he deals with pressure as a coach)

So on a Sunday morning I get up, go to the bathroom, make breakfast, walk the dog, get the rolls. I do this by car, it’s very windy here and it’s always raining. Then my wife, the best wife I’ve ever had, gets to sleep in. Without my wife there wouldn’t be a single car on the road in Germany. A bit of an exaggeration, but you get the picture. Yesterday I even drove to the „Boy“ bakery, which is a bit further away, but my wife likes the rolls from there best, especially on Sundays. When they open a new store, and they do it all the time, they always say „It’s going to be a boy!“ during the renovation. I don’t like to go there because there are so many men working there. In principle I don’t have anything against men, for example at soccer or handball, with a beer or a game, it’s all good. But I prefer rolls made by women. Men and meat, okay, men and rolls, that just doesn’t work for me.

So I take two light ones for myself, two for my wife, one with a dark nutty taste, one with spelt. And then there is a roll with cinnamon, Hamburg style. That’s too much for two. Then I go back, make the tea, put it on the kettle, yes, and then I read the newspaper on the tablet. Even the ads, all the ads. You start doing that when you’re 60, I don’t know why.

These French rolls, the dough is spread with a lot of butter, then there’s a lot of sugar with a lot of cinnamon on top, then it’s rolled and cut into slices. Anyway, they swell up and then take a diamond shape when they are baked. The liquid sugar with the cinnamon oozes out a little to the right and left, which then crumbles nicely, so the two ends are sugary crispy and browner than the rest. I prefer the middle, which is very soft and light on the outside. I don’t just like the middle layer in French rolls. My ex-boyfriend would only eat the left corner. I find that just as impractical as eating only the right side, because you never get the whole picture of the roll or the world. It’s like the wingers in the old days, Abramczik, he only knew the outer line up to the corner flag, the rest was foreign to him. Ball, run, cross to Fischer, very simple. But soccer isn’t always that simple, just like politics or a French roll.

Yes, I’m still sitting here because my wife needs some time in the bathroom, especially on Sundays. Fingernails, hair, it just takes time.

At some point I’m sitting in the kitchen, facing the stairs that lead half a floor up to the living room, Norah Jones is singing, then she floats in like an angel from heaven, striding down the stairs, her hair blowing in the breeze, just like 30 years ago, she smiles at me, gives me a kiss, then the dog, then she sits down, smiling. I fill her cup with hot green tea, vanilla-peach. I’ve already cut open the dark buns.

„What is this? You’ve broken off both ends of the rolls and eaten them! That’s not possible! That’s the best part! Man, yo, great Sunday!“

„I’m thinking of Confucius, who said: Sum up the worries of the day in half an hour and take a nap in that time. (Franz Beckenbauer)