CHAG HA BLINTZIM

So you've just cruised through the entire bloggosphere and discovered that I'm the only one who posted anything today.

And you wonder how that is.

Simple.

Everyone else was up all night snarfing cheesecake in celebration of kabolos haTorah.
I, on the other hand, have a significant other.
Who is better than any darn cheesecake.

[Well, not exactly. But you know. Sometimes it's time for cheesecake, sometimes it isn't. And when it's time for cheesecake, it's time for cheesecake.]


In consequence, I had a good night's sleep, whereas everyone else is now flaked out, zonked, and in their disturbed dreams realizing that they are lactose intolerant. Severely. They already knew that, and they still remember what happened last year, but the spasms and cramps are really, really bringing that realization home this time.


Abdominal tumult interrupts their fitful sleep, borborygme punctuate their restless shifting. Sweat furrows their tired brow, as painful twitches and periodic lysis bring a scant modicum of relief.

You do not want to be around them now. It is more frightful than feeding time in the monkey house. Stuff is flying.


They will remain, fevered, in Morpheus' embrace until just about tea-time. Then their bleary eyes will open; they will wipe the accumulated crust from the corners of their lids, swing a leg over the side of the bed, and yawn. Like bears waking from hibernation, they will wash nagel vasser (or knock over the bowl), mumble modeh ani lifaneicha Melech Chai ve Kayam to themselves........

Oh heck. This would be a neener neener neener situation, except that I'm actually rather jealous. You see, THEY had cheesecake.
So it's kinda sour-grapish instead.

Belated chag sameach, y'all.