I'm positive I'm green in the face with three hours of sleep and a hangover.
It' raining. It's cold and I want to go home. And sleep.
There's a jar of kosher dill pickles on the kitchen counter and I'm thinking to myself, when was it that
I learned that the ends of the pickle are not really eadible.
"No, of course I don't mind coming back here next week, and no, there's no need to pass the...."
Oh, and then... I remember being a child and that blessed feeling of being allowed to make waffles. Always eating half of the mix and getting yelled at. Squeezing the machine shut so tight most of the waffle ended up pressed out of the sides. I don't honestly think I'll ever be so excited about anything in my life...
