Man shall not live by bread alone. Well, he may not live at all but if he does, I will make sure he has no bread.
Tinubu, 2023
It’s been a sluggish morning—one of those where you have to roll yourself into action like an aging coffee maker.
Slowly grinding.
I slept really late last night after getting into a heated conversation with one of my favorite people in the world.
Pleasant?
No.
Necessary?
Yes.
So you can imagine my slight frustration and surprise as I rolled around and realized it was only 6 AM. Essentially, I had been asleep for about four hours.
I had a doctor’s appointment last week where they asked how much sleep I get every night. Before I could answer, my heart sank completely because I knew that as soon as I said the number out loud, I would get that look from the physician assistant. And lo and behold, I did. Slightly disappointed, but almost like an older sibling or a parent looking at you, saying, This is bad, but you can do better. And better is what I want.
I want to sleep better, to sleep through the night. Part of that comes from my dedication to going to bed early and not being a night owl. That means making sure the dominoes fall the right way—like eating dinner at a healthy time. I’ve been trying to eat before 8 PM this year. By doing that, I can get in bed, stay off my phone, slowly convince myself to sleep, and voilà—it’s 10 PM, and I’m already knocked out.
The problem? I’ve built up such a habit of staying up late that on the days I do sleep early, I not only miss out on conversations with some of my favorite people, but people start wondering if something is wrong.
Guys, me sleeping early doesn’t mean anything is wrong.
I’m just getting old.
Anyway, today, I was standing in the kitchen, and I wanted to tell you all about my love for omelets. But before I get into that—obviously, omelets aren’t entirely what I’m talking about. I’m talking about more than just eggs (which, by the way, are expensive these days).
There’s been a huge dialogue on social media—both in Nigeria and America—about the price of eggs.
Well, both countries have made their questionable choices. One elected an idiot, and the other allowed an idiot to steal the future of many kids and half a generation. But that’s not why we’re here.
A few weeks ago, one of my absolute favorite people was at my home. While I was finishing up my morning workout, I got a text message that read: Would you like an omelet? I’m making one.
As someone who rarely eats breakfast, my first thought was, Yay, I get to eat!
But more importantly, Yay, somebody is making the food, so I don’t have to worry about it. And very quickly, I thought to myself, Huh, I should eat more. But again, not why we’re here.
The omelet was so good that I have since made an omelet almost every single day I’ve worked from home in the last two to three weeks. One key part of my fitness goals is understanding that I need to eat breakfast consistently. It sets the tone for my day and helps me stay on track. But often, by the time I get back from the gym, I either have to rush into a meeting or I’m just not in the mood to eat—so I skip it.
That day, I was so grateful to be asked that simple question because, one, it meant I could eat, and two, I loved the feeling of being taken care of.
A major frustration for me as I get older is feeling like I pour so much into the people around me, but I don’t always feel that energy reciprocated in ways that speak directly to my heart. Note that I didn’t say people don’t care about me—I just said I don’t always get those gestures in the way I want to receive them.
So yes, the omelet was fantastic. I had breakfast. It was a great start to the day. But here’s the thing about that omelet: in making one every day, I’ve been able to stay on track with my fitness goals and rekindle my love for food in a way I hadn’t in a long time.
I never made a lot of breakfast foods because, growing up and in college, I always felt like eating breakfast made me sleepy. And I wanted to be alert in class. So I wouldn’t eat, then I’d be starving by the evening and overeat. You know the cycle.
So, being able to re-engage with my relationship with food has been fun and helpful. But why did I start talking about this omelet? Because I think it’s important to allow people to show us love in ways we may not fully understand—simply because they love us.
We often want to control how love manifests in our lives, but it doesn’t have to be grand or big.
To the person who made me the omelet—thank you. But more importantly, thank you for just being you. Who knows? Maybe they were just hungry and knew I had more eggs than they did. (I joke, I joke.)
But the reasoning doesn’t matter. What matters is I got my omelet. I got some breakfast. And I’m appreciative of it. So this week, I want you to allow yourself to receive love in the little things. And maybe, just maybe, have some eggs.
Now, back to reality. As I write this, I need to finish washing dishes and start my day. It’s 7:03 AM. I’ll return after I’m done.
(7:09 AM) Before I started washing the dishes, I really didn’t want to. I woke up groggy, a little heavy. I just wanted to get ready, go to the gym, then to the office, and call it a day. But I’ve been working on consistency—like making sure I don’t leave dishes in the sink.
There was a time I was so busy that I completely forgot to do the dishes before a trip. When I got back three weeks later, there was a used wok in my sink. Thankfully, it was dry, so no bacteria grew—but still.
So, standing at the sink today, I debated skipping it. Who’s gonna check me? But then I reminded myself: Your desire for greatness will never outwork the effort required to be great.
It might just be dishes, but apply that to anything in your life. That life you imagine? The relationship you want? Your desire for it will never be greater than the work required to build it.
It only took six minutes to wash those dishes—six minutes that will make my evening so much better when I return home to a clean sink. Small actions add up.
So whatever you’re chasing in life, just start. Be methodical. Be consistent. And don’t let the urge to procrastinate win.
Lastly, a quick complaint about one of my favorite brands. Rihanna, I love you. I know you’re never dropping another album. You’ve been lying to us for years, and we’ve accepted it.
But I need to say this: men want pockets in our sleepwear!
I love the fit of Savage Fenty. The fabric is luxurious. The colors are top-tier. But there are NO pockets. Why? Men like pockets. We need pockets.
You gave us a tiny chest pocket. What am I supposed to do with that? Sleep with my phone in my chest? Come on, Rih. Do better. Thank you very much.
Anyway, thank you for reading. And shoutout to me for being consistent and posting this on time.
Stay up.
Avoid trouble. And do a little extra toward the greater you.
You’ll be better for it, and so will the world around you.
Peace.
Comment, repost and share. Thank you for your continued support.
You are highly appreciated.
#WordsOfWednesday
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