Someone is helping me cook breakfast. The racks are difficult to adjust. Lots of food is being cooked, an abundance. Ginny's kids' breakfast is on the first shelf and 2 blankets insulate it so that the food on the lower shelves isn't getting cooked. I realize that George hasn't any breakfast. I offer to fix some for him. I poach some eggs for him. Ginny helps me get the eggs out and she breaks one or two. I finally get to eat my breakfast. Someone says finally, "You get to eat. How is it?" I say, "It's fine." I have a sense that I'm packing to move somewhere.