Ich bin running on three hours of sleep and nothing in my stomach. A mother would be pretty upset.
There’s a big chunk of tri-tip waiting to get rock-salted and thrown on the grill, but I need the help of 3 hungry appetites to weather the challenge. No takers yet though, everyone’s too busy running faster in their hamster wheel of perpetual slavery, loneliness, white collar pain and cubicle torture. Yes. Me too.
My hands are cold.