Saturday, May 03, 2008

Like most sleep aids, it has some risk of dependency.

That's BBQ I'm talking about. John had the quite smart idea to get barbecue for lunch, so after I got back from yoga and we hauled the last of my old textbooks to the post office* we moseyed down 11th Avenue to Daisy Mae's.

We stuffed ourselves, then waddled home.

I fell asleep on the sofa, reading a book about medieval crime-fighting whores and whining about how much I was craving Archway cookies.

Later, I got up and made caramel corn.

John and I had dinner at our local Ethiopian place again. I mustered the courage to ask the name of one dish I really like from the vegetarian combo, then could not for the life of me figure out what the waitress had called it. The name sounded like a sneeze, and I'm not the kind of idiot racist who says that sort of thing lightly. At least I emerged form the day-long food coma to check what was written on the receipt. It's called butcha, and it's not on the menu, but now I can order it!

We went home planning to play Scrabble, and we did, as I absent-mindedly ate half a pan of caramel corn.


*I'm sending them off postage-due to a textbook buyer, and they will allegedly send me money. We'll see how that goes.

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