Good Morning

Some guy, Chinese snow man, and me. 1988 in Chicago.

Some people learn from their mistakes. I do, but it takes me getting burned a few times before it sinks in. We have a very nice Chinese family that lives a block away, and they own a restaurant right around the corner from our house. Every morning when I am walking my dogs I run into the matriarch of the family doing her daily health regime, which consists of her walking very fast around the neighborhood while swinging her arms in giant arcs. I saw her Friday morning, as usual, and greeted her.
"Good morning." I say as she flashed by, arms swinging madly.
"Hello, why no see you lately..." She says, obviously not really wanting an answer because she is half a block away before I even figure out what she just said. But she is right. We hadn't ordered food from her restaurant in a very long time. So Sunday, when Mark told me he was too tired to cook dinner I suggested Chinese. It was two in the morning when I remembered why we stopped calling that place. MSG! I had gone to bed just a little after midnight Sunday. Less than two hours later my eyes popped open, and my mind started racing. It was very reminiscent of the time I tried amphetamines as a very young man. Anyway, that was it. I was awake, and stayed awake for the next twenty two hours. So last night, after watching the Daily Show, and the Letterman monologue, I finally drifted off to sleep. It was around three this morning when I realized I should have thrown out those Chinese takeout leftovers instead of eating them right before going to bed.