halloween

Domestic Worker is expected to arrive sometime at the end of this week. It sounds like we're waiting for the delivery of a new refrigerator. No.

I hung out with the A, MX and S after KI today. We went to Aston's, where I had a sirloin steak for the first time in a very long while. I ate the charred fat. Loved it. We sat under a broken Tiffany's pendant lamp, listening to bad country music, discussing Why It Would Be Totally Awesome To Live In Serangoon Gardens, and observing (with a mixture of horror and amusement) A take a short after-meal nap.

I'm not sure of my feelings for steak. I'm not sure of my feelings for chicken. I'm not sure of my feelings for the onion rings that were included in my sides. I am, however, sure of my feelings for the bitchin' good chocolate ice cream from Awfully Chocolate. ("I AM SO HAPPY NOW. I AM SO HAPPY RIGHT NOW," thrilled MX.) There I sat, shell-shocked, confident, that I had just experienced something life-changing. Sunlight streamed through the full-length glass windows. Nearby, kahlua chocolate truffles sat inside a glass case, watching the lazy traffic of a mid-afternoon amble past.

Plagued by the guilt of having recently consumed rich and divine foods, S and I decided to walk to Paya Lebar MRT station. I like covering great distances — when I go back to NYC again, I'm going to walk the entire length of Broadway, from Lower Manhattan to the Bronx. (OK, maybe with a group of friends.) Am thinking: if J and N go to NYU and I do get to Columbia, I swear I'm going to drag them on This Great NY Expedition, armed with coffee cups, trudging through grey wintery sludge and swearing profusely + profoundly.