If I ate breakfast two hours ago, am I in the clear to finish my enormous omelet for lunch now? With a side of chocolate stout cake (can't taste the stout, but the chocolate frosting Mary suggested was brilliant).
After a couple of weeks of cooking bad pastas, I finally made something delicious this morning. I had a fridge full of a stray pieces: 1/4 onion, 1/2 shallot, 4 mushrooms, 1/3 pack wrinkled cherry tomatoes, and 2 last eggs in the carton and decided to toss it all together, plus some garlic, bacon pieces and cheddar, for a big, fluffy omelet. Granted, I now face the rest of the week with an empty fridge, but the breakfast just went down so lovely with some world war soccer.
The trouble with schooling and work and learning is that sooner or later, people start thrusting responsibilities on me and assuming that I'm capable. I'm completely flattered but question whether it's all well deserved. On Friday, a collaborator at Internship killed a plan to publicize the results of a study because of my assessment of the limits and methodology of the paper. The way Collaborator heard my analysis was both thrilling and terrifying. Because of all the people at Internship equipped to critique the statistical methods of a health economics paper by a brilliant professor, it's obviously me. Someone should give BP my number.
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