How to leave a hint

I sometimes wonder about my motives.

.

Last night as I lay in bed, I was ooo-ing and ahhh-ing through a beautiful cookbook from the good ol' public library. Chocolate, glorious chocolate. When I had exhausted it for the fourth time, I grabbed the Brunch cookbook I had given to Guy for Christmas. When I saw it on the store shelf, I'd had visions of grandeur. I would certainly spend a solid week sampling the tantalizing breakfast fare that would be inspired by said book.

.

Alas, I had yet to see any of the recipes materialize in my kitchen, and it'd been a whole month!

.

Guy fell asleep reading the recipe titles over my shoulder. I eventually closed the book and lay it beside me on the table, leaving the corner of the dust-jacket tucked into a fritter recipe that looked amazing.

.

This morning I awoke to sensory-boggling aromas.

.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Clause, and man can he cook.

.

Zucchini fritters, fluffy and light, crispy on the outside, savory and comforting on-the-in. Topped with gently scrambled eggs (because poached is, well, ew.) Drizzled in hollandaise sauce and garnished with dark caramelized onions.

.

Bliss, thy name is Brunchy Zucchini Fritters.

.

Did I look at the cookbook last night because I knew Guy had a free Saturday? Did I mark that page in hopes of him finding it? Is my subconscious culinarily conniving?

.

I don't know about that, but what I do know is that it was the perfect panacea for what had been a challenging week. Even if I didn't do it on purpose, thank goodness my hubby can take a hint.