Monday, April 03, 2006
Monday Morning Sake
by venitha
Monday dawns, and the harsh morning sun reveals the irresponsibility of Sunday. Our normally anal-with-order apartment has been hit by a... Hey, Jim? What natural disasters do they have here?
A gaping box and the half-wrapped pieces of my latest purchase, a vacuum cleaner, are strewn haphazardly about the living room. Laptops three and cameras four, papers many and glasses - How many people live here? - litter the dining room table. Dishes are piled on the kitchen counter in bold and unwise defiance of the unanimously-passed but half-heartedly enforced Ant Discouragement Act.
And I don't have to go up to the roof to know the chaos that lurks above my head. In a burst of industriousness, Jim yesterday embarked on the odious job of scrubbing fountains, trimming plants, and washing rocks and was happily sprung from his task not by its completion but by the clock and our Sunday lunch plans.
We are a suitable cast for this disheveled set: Jim late for work, me late for meeting Deepali at the Chinese embassy, both of us still sweating from rushed morning workouts followed too soon by hasty showers which just didn't take.
Inappropriately, however, and somewhat surprisingly, I admit, we are not hungover. While Sunday night sushi has become an addiction (and is quite likely to multiply into Wednesday lunch sushi thanks to the irresistible gems pictured below), we have yet to touch a drop of sake. Looking around my apartment this morning, I was sorely tempted to remedy that shortcoming. But, alas, no sake in stock.
venitha
A gaping box and the half-wrapped pieces of my latest purchase, a vacuum cleaner, are strewn haphazardly about the living room. Laptops three and cameras four, papers many and glasses - How many people live here? - litter the dining room table. Dishes are piled on the kitchen counter in bold and unwise defiance of the unanimously-passed but half-heartedly enforced Ant Discouragement Act.
And I don't have to go up to the roof to know the chaos that lurks above my head. In a burst of industriousness, Jim yesterday embarked on the odious job of scrubbing fountains, trimming plants, and washing rocks and was happily sprung from his task not by its completion but by the clock and our Sunday lunch plans.
We are a suitable cast for this disheveled set: Jim late for work, me late for meeting Deepali at the Chinese embassy, both of us still sweating from rushed morning workouts followed too soon by hasty showers which just didn't take.
Inappropriately, however, and somewhat surprisingly, I admit, we are not hungover. While Sunday night sushi has become an addiction (and is quite likely to multiply into Wednesday lunch sushi thanks to the irresistible gems pictured below), we have yet to touch a drop of sake. Looking around my apartment this morning, I was sorely tempted to remedy that shortcoming. But, alas, no sake in stock.
venitha
