May. 22nd, 2003 10:16 am
My hair is old, my knees are gray
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muckefuckUsually, I can tell if I'm sick. It's not always easy, since I can go from feeling crappy one minute to okay the next. But now I'm positively confused. My sinuses have been annoying lately, but that's just given me headaches and congestion. However, last night I feel asleep before nine. I thought for sure that would fuck up my sleep schedule and I'd be wide awake at 4 a.m. But I went back to sleep and didn't get up until my regular time. Whenever I sleep like this, I figure I must need it. But why in this case? It's not like I've been up tell 2 a.m. every night shaking my tuchis at Charlie's. Worst of all, I don't feel particularly refreshed. In fact, I felt like I could've gone right back to sleep.
I only had one glass of wine with dinner, which shouldn't knock me out. The Clark Street Bistro has reopened as Dunlay's. It's basically the same place except (1) the dining area seems more bright and open; (2) they've played around with the menu, trying to make it more casual and innovative while retaining the high prices; and (3) the waitstaff has apparently been selected for maximum blonde perkiness. It's like One North meets Bennigan's, in a Trixieland setting.
But I enjoyed my sea bass and the accompanying rice salad and Monshu et up his glorified meatloaf with gusto. We took a pass on their iron-skillet fried chocolate chip cookie [see above] and scored a tub of croccantino al rum gelato from Monterotondo around the corner to take back to my place. Monshu admired the rumminess. I insisted that he put it away himself; when he did so, he expressed amazement at the ice-free nature of my freezer. Biting my tongue, I was like, "Isn't there anything else you notice?" I swear, he stared at that thing for half a minute before saying, "It's a new one."
Less than an hour later, we were both asleep. At dinner, when neither of us could remember something, he pleaded age and asked me for my excuse. I said "Spongiform encephalitis." Then this morning I hear of BSE in Canada. Gee whiz, guys, first SARS, now this. What's next? Ebola in Nova Scotia?
I only had one glass of wine with dinner, which shouldn't knock me out. The Clark Street Bistro has reopened as Dunlay's. It's basically the same place except (1) the dining area seems more bright and open; (2) they've played around with the menu, trying to make it more casual and innovative while retaining the high prices; and (3) the waitstaff has apparently been selected for maximum blonde perkiness. It's like One North meets Bennigan's, in a Trixieland setting.
But I enjoyed my sea bass and the accompanying rice salad and Monshu et up his glorified meatloaf with gusto. We took a pass on their iron-skillet fried chocolate chip cookie [see above] and scored a tub of croccantino al rum gelato from Monterotondo around the corner to take back to my place. Monshu admired the rumminess. I insisted that he put it away himself; when he did so, he expressed amazement at the ice-free nature of my freezer. Biting my tongue, I was like, "Isn't there anything else you notice?" I swear, he stared at that thing for half a minute before saying, "It's a new one."
Less than an hour later, we were both asleep. At dinner, when neither of us could remember something, he pleaded age and asked me for my excuse. I said "Spongiform encephalitis." Then this morning I hear of BSE in Canada. Gee whiz, guys, first SARS, now this. What's next? Ebola in Nova Scotia?