It’s early in the a.m. Like, really early. Like, there is no chance that the sun shall be reprieving the moon of his night duties anytime soon. Nope, the moon has still got a good hour to go on the night shift, so that lad may as well go and get himself another cup of coffee… that’s what I’m going to do.
I do not know what I am doing up at this time, though. I checked my pajamas and the sheets and they were definitely dry so there needs to be another answer. One that I do not know though, as my chosen career path was cooking and being a top bloke in general, not a degree in modern doctoring with honours in the areas of cognitive-behavioural therapy and adult nocturnal enuresis theories (look that shit up).
And just to top it off it is bloody cold. My face is blowing smoke yet I do not have a cigarette. The grass outside is white yet I do not remember ever ordering white turf. My hands are just barely working, which still puts them a few paces ahead of my brain right now. It’s colder than the disgruntled snowman’s public defecation on the set of “Disney on Ice” right now, which confuses me even more because I quite simply cannot make sense of anything with my brain freezing like it is. And what options do I have to warm said brain? Anti-freeze? Nope, can’t drink it. Light fire on head? Nope, beard will go up like roman candle and ruin boyish good looks. Beanie? Beanie! See, now that is a good idea. It was bound to kick in eventually. Now where to buy a beanie at 4:30am…
Argh, damn this cold.
By mid afternoon my brain had warmed up enough to tell me that I was going to make Peter Kuruvita’s pork and black pepper curry again, except this time is was going to use chicken and potato. I was also told to make dahl, carrot sambal, tamarind chutney and flatbread. A well received decision indeed.