Miso

When you have phenomenal friends, you should get used to them being phenomenal. And get out of their way when they love you because they will fucking love you.

So the question is asked of me what do I want from the store. I mentioned that I wanted miso soup from a sushi place in town. I assumed that I’d get a few soups and some ginger ale from Walmart. Right? That’s a fair assumption.

I forgot that my friends are phenomenal. I forgot that they love me.

I have in my possession TWO FUCKING GALLONS OF MISO SOUP from the sushi place in town. Delivered in a paint bucket drum.

I’m keeping the bucket.

It will remind me. When I forget, when I’m tired, when I want to give up, it will remind me.

However wonderful two gallons of miso soup is, it wasn’t the best part of the day. It was much simpler.

After being sick in the bathroom again, I opened the door to a woman in my bed with only one question. She opened her arms and said

“Big spoon or little spoon?”

Little spoon please.

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