Tired monsters are still tired. And monsters.

Sitting on the edge of the couch at a quarter past midnight on a saturday night in my soft old star wars t shirt and red plaid flannel pajama pants, I feel like 30 is continuing to be, has been, and promises to continue to be, a good year. Tonight’s family meal – an orgy (i considered the word bastard, but decided to go with a positive choice of phrase, given how great things are going lately) of left overs, centered around some curry our pantry cook made, was rather good. I’m finding a balance between the expensive packets of ramen that mr kim sells at the bodega and 6 dish sunday roasts on a tuesday – tonight we had a dressed up curry, with some dressed up rice, and a simple salad. Only 3 plates. And a mixing bowl. Two pans. The silverware. The glasses. Shit. I really need to find peace with the microwave, or hire a dishwasher to load my dishwasher.

What kind of privilege monster am i?

A tired one.