Sunday, January 21, 2018

THE UN-SHARED BITES

What I realized the other night, while eating my late hour snack of stirfried stalky mustard, bacon, curry paste, and peppers, was that there was no one with whom I could share my snack of stirfried stalky mustard, bacon, curry paste, and peppers. which, if you think about it, is sad. But on the other hand, my former significant other was not a person with whom to share stirfried stalky mustard, bacon, curry paste, and peppers
She habitually went to bed early.

At around eleven thirty she would be asleep.

Hypothetically, I could wake her up for stirfried stalky mustard, bacon, curry paste, and peppers. She's in the other room, sleeping, because we've been friends for years, and we trust each other. But she wouldn't like stirfried stalky mustard, bacon, curry paste, and peppers anyway.

Alas, I may be the only person in my immediate circle who likes and would eat stirfried stalky mustard, bacon, curry paste, and peppers.
I also added fish sauce for good measure.


The starch component, in case you are wondering, was challah. She bought it. It's a Jewish thing, associated with the sabbath, wich was yesterday.
No, she didn't make it herself. She's Chinese. Canto-American.
Chinese people by and large do not bake challah.


Neither of us have any reason to keep kosher or maintain a vegetarian or vegan kitchen. That's another reason to appreciate the current apartment mate situation, because in SF the alternatives are drugged-out food phobics who don't do their dishes, and will steal your stuff for crack funds.
Psychos, schizos, and precious people.


She antisocial, painfully shy, not confident around humans, avoids other people, and likely to talk in a Jamaican accent, like Urasmus the one-legged monkey, or bleat delightedly like Angus the she-sheep.
But she regularly buys icecream.
And she's sane.




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