And while you try to figure out exactly how crazy and confused I really am, here is a poem about toast.
Doris I. Bateman
My toast has such a crunchable sound
As I bite my piece that's all buttered and browned.
Though my egg is pure silver and gold in my dish,
And my orange and cocoa quite all one could wish
Still, I know that at breakfast the thing I like most
Is my buttered, brown, munchable, crunchable toast!