Pot Lucks

I love pot lucks. Because I know I will be fed. Because I know that I can eat a little of everything.

I hate pot lucks. Everything that is good is usually bad. And for some weird reason, you struggle hard with self control.

I love pot lucks. You get to meet people and talk nonsensical stuff, and sit and lounge.

I hate pot lucks. You forget the clock and time suddenly becomes eel-like. Slippery as hell.

Tonight was a good night with roast pork, lamb stew, curried meatballs, carrot cakes. And for dessert, tiramisu, ondeh ondeh and putih hitam. I love the food. And I love even more that I exercised self restrain and control and manage to eat in normal portions. And even so, I still feel fat and bloated. And sluggish and slow.

Nevertheless, I am glad to note, I did gym (heh 4km only) and I did work (heh 4 lectures only). And tomorrow I will attempt to complete more. Tomorrow marks the last day of the sweet sorrowful anguish. Everything else will cease to influence for I know I am living.

For tonight, I will chase after the all-elusive quality sleep that I crave and yearn for.