I bought some this morning. From a gas station. At least it was whole wheat.
For the third time in a couple of months, I have not seated the bread maker baking pan correctly in the machine and it hasn’t mixed properly. I awoke to the smell of freshly baked bread this morning, only to find a wizened lump of hardened dough when I opened the lid. At least the coffee maker functioned and I was able to get a cup while pondering my options (read: checking store hours for our local grocery stores and pharmacies-that-sell-food online – none open before 8).
Previously when we’ve had a bread-maker malfunction (I’m talking about me here, not the machine), I have just asked Z to get himself some lunch at the office (translation: his assistant gets him some lunch because he can’t peel himself off the phone), but Michael is attending science camp at U of T this week, so he needed a sandwich as well. We have an Esso station with Tim Hortons To Go a block away from our place so Z and I headed up there with Wilson (bonus walk) around 7 am, but they don’t sell bread. We tried Subway (closed), Mr. Cheap (closed), and then headed to another gas station three blocks north where we were greeted with “Food Store” sign as we rounded to corner.