So, it would appear that I may have brought back a small caffeine problem from my Vietnam vacation.

Along with over a kilo of that sweet magical bean powder one uses to produce that delicious sirupy black nectar of the gods they call coffee over there.

Which in the grand scheme of things could have been way, way, worse. Given the region’s history, an opium addiction was not completely out of the question.

Still, I feel I may actually need to sleep at some point.


I don’t care if the raptors have escaped their enclosure on the second floor and caused an electrical fire in the process… I am not leaving my half-brewed coffee behind.

Watching our two cats stalk a fly throughout the house is like a scene out of a low-budget Jurassic Park remake, down to the sudden jumps on furniture, jerking head motion and small guttural coordinating noises.

A lot less efficient, though.

If there was a modern retelling of the Sisyphean myth, it should involve folding large bedsheets with two overactive cats in the house.

Friend, talking about her moronic American boss and his cheesy-hobby-turned-floundering-business, that only survives off the subsidies of his well-off Japanese wife:

He’s living the American Dream… The American Dream in Japan.