I woke up this morning with the sun tied in a sheet made of yesterday’s shame. I slammed a Diet Coke, reviving, and removed the chicken from the slow cooker. Wrapped in the sheet, with hair wild, I’d completely forgotten about the chicken, but the beauty of slow cookers is, hey, you can do that. You should ask the boys at fire station 5 about the night I threw potatoes in the oven.
I love slow cookers. The machine is my bitch. I’m going to bed now. But when I wake up, this better be done. This better be good to go. The machine takes care of me. Its creations keep me strong.
I live downtown in a third-floor walkup with a roommate. I work north of downtown, in a museum.
Lunch today is a chicken sandwich.
~If you don’t know, now you know, oh!~
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