Breaking Fast.

(Most of this will be written in sentence fragments)

This morning my experience with breakfast was a disaster.

I slept in. Woke up hungry. And meandered into the kitchen to find some grub.


Open the cabinet. See some Trix. They look yummy. Pour some in bowl. Open fridge. No milk. "Crap I should have bought milk last night when mom asked me to." Pour bowl of dry Trix back into cereal box. Put on coffee. New coffee pot. Difficult to operate. Coffee and grounds get all over counter and in pot. Still hungry. See cream cheese in fridge. See bagels in cabinet. Put bagel in toaster. Bagel gets really burnt. Cover the burn up with cream cheese. Eat it anyway. Clean up coffee mess. Try again. It messes up again. Crap need caffeine. Shower. Put on face. Put on hair. Put on sweats. Drive to drive-thru Starbucks that is fifteen minutes away instead of going to walk-in one five minutes away so I don't have to get out of the car. Go to Chick-Fil-A. Come home. Eat and watch Wife Swap.

The moral of this story is they don't serve breakfast in hell.

Fact.

There is nothing better than human touch.

29.

Sometimes...

...I...

...miss...

...things....

....that I shouldn't...

...miss.

December Baby.

The only disheartening thing about going to Cambodia (other than the forever long plane ride and culture shock) is the depressing realization I will not be in Asheville on New Years Eve to sing "Auld Lang Syne" with these boys.