Well, I guess I was right. The communal fruity bowl must have passed be some sort of virus because I woke up on Saturday with sore throat and a bit of a headache, and now Kat seems to be a bit sick, too. The good news is that she had plenty of American pills she scored on her recent trip to Portland so on Saturday night, instead of going out, she brought over some bacon, bread, cinnamon rolls, fruit juice, yogurt, rock n’ roll tea bags and chocolate milk (all you need to have when you’re sick) and we stayed home getting high on over-the-counter drugs, sipping hot tea and watching telly. Early in the afternoon, before she arrived, I ordered pizza from Domino’s and when the delivery boy came to my house with my food, he gave me a free brownie as a gift for my loyalty, which only means one thing: I need to get my shit together and cook more often!
Anyway, on Sunday, Kat and I went for lunch at Magasasa (my favourite Chinese restaurant) then stopped at Sort Kaffe og Vinyl for a cortado in the sun and then for a little walk around Vesterbro until we found a little bench in a square that was packed with dogs smelling each other’s genitals. All very romantic. We sat there for a while, soaking up as much sunshine as possible while we discussed various topics, most of them too inappropriate to share in public.
Yesterday, she came home and cooked a tasty chicken soup for both of us; she’s completely sure I didn’t like it but… I did! And trust me, I’m not saying this just to be polite. The question is, though: was the soup actually good or do I simply have very low standards?
I’d let you be the judge on that.