So last night when I walked in the house, the dishwasher was sitting in the middle of the kitchen, yawning dishes at me. So I went to ask my dad if the dishwasher was clean and needed emptying, or if the dishwasher had dirty dishes and needed to be started. My brain-to-mouth connection wasn't working- as it seems to be working less and less these days- so the only thing I could actually manage to get out was "is it a waxing dishwasher or a waning dishwasher?"
The scariest thing? He understood exactly what I meant, and in a word, replied "waxing".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I woke up in the middle of the night with the munchies. Its a good thing I don't keep munchie food in the house, because otherwise I'd actually eat it when I got the munchies. This time, I had such a case of the munchies that I scoured the kitchen trying to come up with something to chew on. The only thing I could come up with was pancakes. Except it seemed like an awful lot of work to make pancakes for one person at four in the morning. And I don't like to eat pancakes alone. So I abstained.
Until now. Now I'm eating pancakes. Because it made more sense to make pancakes in the daytime, even though I'm still eating them alone. And I was hungrier. I like powdered sugar on my pancakes instead of syrup.
It would be nice if 1)I had my own place, 2)I lived in or closer to the city, and 3)I had lots of friends who were night people, like I am. Then, when I woke up in the middle of the night craving pancakes, all I'd have to do is call some people and say "hey, wanna come over and eat pancakes?", and they'd come over and we'd eat pancakes. And you'd be invited. But I wouldn't call you if I knew you weren't a night person. And you might have to bring your own syrup. We seem to be out.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
