I woke up this morning with a picture of a Black Label Beer bottle in my head, except the black label, read Darling instead. So, the lady version, I thought, could be Carling Darling in a feminine cursive. As we all know, in my head at least, if the name works with the font – it MUST be right! With that thought in mind, I rolled out of bed, imagining how glad the ladies of the world will be to hug a chilled bottle of darling as they make conversation suspended in air on thin impossibly high heels surrounded by twinkly lights.

Barely awake I slouch over to the kitchen in my childish PJ’s and gaudy robe to stare blankly at the space the kettle used to be. My scurrying housemate grabs me by the shoulders and spins me, my gaping expression and daft pointed finger, to face a cutesy note resting in a saucepan indicating its position as stand-in for the kettle today. She trickles out the house with tinkling keys and hurried goodbyes while I imagine myself making a cup of coffee on a camp-fire. I love these little oddities breaking up the mundane details of everyday life. I gain pleasure from pouring the hot water into my mug and seeing it glide into the cup effortlessly while bubbling angrily in the pot like the crowd disappearing down the escalator into that hole in the ground at Seoul station as they transfer to the subway.

My phone buzzes and whirrs and sputters out the electronic jukebox wake-up call and I imagine myself dancing around to it in my room. To my amazement the phone (Imagine it to be lifting itself up with arms on hips) scowls at me only to say, “That really isn’t the point of this, you know. You’re not supposed to ENJOY it.” Imagine that! I am a late-morning morning-person after all.

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