I used to extol the virtues of going to bed hungry, but lately I've been finding that a little something puts me right out, such as a bunch of grapes or a couple or ten of the aforementioned saltines with a smear of peanut butter.
Tonight my hand reached into the pickle jar. Half-sours, naturally, and they were good at the time but I regret the choice somewhat at this moment. No matter how thoroughly I brush my teeth, I am bound to wake up with the echo of a pickle on my tastebuds. Note to self.
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david,
ReplyDeletecan i make a request for you to make an appearance at the rustic "general store" that was mentioned in the n.y.t. article about your quaint new hampshire residence?
sincerely,
leigh patterson