I’d rather be a failure at something I love than a success at something I hate.
I went upstairs, got undressed and got into bed. Ever since I was a child, I had to have the TV on before I could go to sleep.
The last time I checked it was one o’clock. She would be fine.
I was woken by something landing on my feet. She had sat down crushing my toes.
“What time is it?”
She put her finger up to her lips. “Ssshhhh, my boyfriend’s trying to sleep.”
“Get into bed.”
“But I’m hungry.”
“Why didn’t you get some food?”
“I tried. I banged really loudly on the pizza window but there was no-one there.”
“What? Seriously, what time is it?”
She looked at her watch and squinted. “It seems to be about five o’clock. “
“What the..? That is ridiculous. You were staying for one drink.”
“It was a very big drink. I am going to make food.”
She got up and tottered to the door. She propped herself against the wall and kicked her shoes across the room and giggled.
“You’re not serious?”
“Of course.” She walked out the room.
The TV went back on and I waited. It would only take her ten minutes to realise she couldn’t find anything and would come back to bed. But twenty minutes went by, half an hour. I had just started to doze off again when the door was thrown open and in she walked with a plate of food. I inspected it. It was rice and peppers and goodness knows what else, but it looked suitably impressive and actually something you might get in a shop, rather than the lap of my drunken girlfriend.
“You don’t cook that well when you’re sober.”
She giggled and shovelled more food into her face.
She sat on the edge of the bed and fed me a mouthful. “This is really nice.”
“I know. Maybe I should only cook drunk.”
I watched her finish the food, get undressed and slide into bed. She backed in until she was comfortable. “Tired now.”
She was already asleep. I lay there listening to the TV a while until I was asleep.
Is drunken cooking the best thing in the world? Discuss