Auntie Mary insisted on having Chinese for dinner tonight… don’t ask me why. It’s never my first choice in the take away food stakes, but we’re all so sick of pizza so I guess it’s not surprising really. Whenever we do the Chinese thing there are two inevitable elements to the experience..
1) Mr K will always bring home fortune cookies and 2) ten minutes after we eat it… I will wish I hadn’t.
These are unalterable facts about Chinese take out at Chez Azerbaijan… and what I really hate is that I never get the good fortunes – mine always suck pus. I’ve _NEVER_ got a cool fortune. Everyone else at the table will be opening their damn cookies and they’ll be full of sage little tidbits (sage as in wise and judicious… not of /or relating to the shrub/plant of the genus salvia) that say things like ‘Romance will slip away if you devote all your attention to work.’ or ‘The will to win is important but the will to prepare is vital’.
And my cookie? My cookie says –
.