The smell of baking bread is the height of luxury domesticity.
But the past five years have turned it a warning of the looming exam.
Will it rise?
Will be pretty?
Is this loaf a “failure”?
The bread lines of war put me to shame.
This aroma should only be a source of joy.
Beware of the hedonic treadmill.
Let us accept our nourishment with constant gratitude.
..
A big, red bug bit Gus.
Last night, the boy read a simple sentence from a Phonics Pathways, 9th ed.
..
