Two-and-a-half hours ago I made curry rice for the first time in my life. It is a dish that I grew up eating, and in fact is one that I often requested for my birthday dinner. I like it a lot. That being said, there are limits to how much I can like it.
Tonight I made two go of rice, or two uncooked cups. This amounts to about five cups once cooked. In addition to that I made a large frying pan full of curry, filled with two chicken breasts, a cut-up potato, and a large chopped carrot. This resulted in a good amount of truly delicious food, which I subsequently ate while watching two episodes of House, MD. Each episode takes forty-five minutes to watch, which tells you about how long I was eating. I also had a large glass of milk.
I am now suffering the consequences of my actions. I can’t even take a deep breath.
To say I have a stomachache would be a gross understatement. Indeed, I can only describe the state of discomfort I am in by defaulting to the Japanese phrase for stomachache - onakawo kowashita (おなか壊した). Translated literally, this means “I broke my stomach”. The word “broke” here, though, is not just describing any breaking. This is different from a car breaking down or a relationship breaking apart. It is accidental, though not analogous to breaking a drinking glass. The closest description I can think of for it is the accidental toppling of a Jenga tower by pulling out the wrong block. You broke the tower. There is a very distinct difference in state from before you pulled the block as opposed to after. There is a tipping point. I passed that Jenga point in my bowl of curry with 6 spoonfuls yet to go.
I am going to bed. If I can walk that far...
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