Domestic God
I drowsily awoke this morning to read my digital clock's display of 11:52. There was no way in hell I was going to make basketball practice, but having stayed up until two in the morning, the chance of accomplishing anything or being anywhere outside the apartment before noon was quite small. Noon came and went. When the clock displayed 12:15 in the pm, I finally had enough resolve to depart the warm sojourn of my blanket. Alas, I have only been able to use one the past few nights, so hot it's been in my room. Anyway, I decided earlier in the week today was going to be the day I finally made Matzah'Brai!
Matzah'Brai, because I'm almost certain you don't know, as I understand it, is quite similar to French Toast. Except instead of using bread, you use matzah. The first two batches I was gaining my bearings, and then I found my groove, churning out a good quantity of high quality egged-matzot. They were consumed hastily and downed with Orange Juice. After that, it was put to a vote, and the overwhelming majority of my limbs reported in that we were going to stay on the couch and watch television for the next few hours - my brain declined a recount.
Around two forty-five, a vote was not held, a dictatorship had formed in my mind, and it demanded satisfaction. By three, I was enjoying When Star Wars Ruled the World as I embarked on a journey to a clean kitchen. And when four fifteen rolled around, my mission was accomplished with the dishwasher being set into motion. I debriefed with the television for the next forty five minutes.
Somewhere within the five o'clock hour, I made it to my bathroom and sanitized the toilet, allowed the mirror to once again be capable of reflecting images, and left the bath tub both spick and span. After which, I dirtified my bathtub by finally cleansing the most mobile thing in my apartment; me! At the conclusion of my shower, it was motioned by the stomach to eat something. Stomach implicated Pasta as the desired food-type. And Brain demanded that Beef Ravioli would be consumed within the hour. So it was deigned, and so it was done. Beef Ravioli was pummelled with Italian Seasoning, Ragu Original Style, Mozarella and Parmesan. Mister Ravioli met with the gastric chamber at 1930 hours.
Matzah'Brai, because I'm almost certain you don't know, as I understand it, is quite similar to French Toast. Except instead of using bread, you use matzah. The first two batches I was gaining my bearings, and then I found my groove, churning out a good quantity of high quality egged-matzot. They were consumed hastily and downed with Orange Juice. After that, it was put to a vote, and the overwhelming majority of my limbs reported in that we were going to stay on the couch and watch television for the next few hours - my brain declined a recount.
Around two forty-five, a vote was not held, a dictatorship had formed in my mind, and it demanded satisfaction. By three, I was enjoying When Star Wars Ruled the World as I embarked on a journey to a clean kitchen. And when four fifteen rolled around, my mission was accomplished with the dishwasher being set into motion. I debriefed with the television for the next forty five minutes.
Somewhere within the five o'clock hour, I made it to my bathroom and sanitized the toilet, allowed the mirror to once again be capable of reflecting images, and left the bath tub both spick and span. After which, I dirtified my bathtub by finally cleansing the most mobile thing in my apartment; me! At the conclusion of my shower, it was motioned by the stomach to eat something. Stomach implicated Pasta as the desired food-type. And Brain demanded that Beef Ravioli would be consumed within the hour. So it was deigned, and so it was done. Beef Ravioli was pummelled with Italian Seasoning, Ragu Original Style, Mozarella and Parmesan. Mister Ravioli met with the gastric chamber at 1930 hours.
posted by The @ 2:15 AM
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