This is poetic prose and it's meant to evoke feelings more than tell an a->b story. Early in the pandemic last year when people were suddenly confined to their houses, a whole lot of people took to baking bread.

The author's fruitless, meaningless job search paralleled the global situation with scores of people losing their jobs. It paralleled her micro situation with being unable to find flour, and not knowing how to harvest wheat. It paralleled her assignments of fruitless, meaningless scavenger hunts she gave her children, because they're stuck at home with her, and nobody knows what the fuck to do.

Ultimately it's a piece describing exhaustion and utter bafflement at trying to find a higher purpose in the midst of the global pandemic. "Fuck the bread" is the voice of reason - when the going gets tough, keep going.

Pieces like this will be the time capsules that will help people in the future understand what we all went through. I do hope it reaches some of our non native speakers.