The last time I remember feeling the way I’ve done today was
when I spent nineteen hours travelling to New Orleans,
and then had to be up early the following morning to get some work done. The
result was a debilitating attack of jet lag coupled with dehydration. It was April, but it was hot.
The grits I'd tried at breakfast probably hadn’t helped. I didn’t
eat much of it, but the memory of the taste haunted me all day. And I remember
being slightly thrown by the sight of a man lying across the top step of a
flight that went up to one of those Spanish town houses they have in the French
Quarter. He was urinating as he lay there, and a little stream of pee was
running its random course to mingle with the good New Orleaneans going about
their business in the sunshine. It reminded me of the Great Cascade at
Chatsworth House, but only slightly.
None of which explains why I’ve been feeling like crap all
day today.
2 comments:
Bluh....
You know, as much as I love grits, they aren't a "cheer me up" food.
I tried them (it?) partly because they looked good, but mostly because I'd heard them mentioned in a Beach Boys song and had always wondered what they were. We don't have them over here. Thankfully!
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