For once, what could have been a much belaboured plan turned out to be okay. Walk to Chemist warehouse, don’t forget to get body-wash, then supermarket for a pack of salad for S, get some of that deli chicken for Lily, get an Arepa (there wasn’t any of the sugar-free ones), then last stop McDonalds for the chicken wings before walking back to the office.

It was okay because the wings turned out to be great; well-seasoned breading, not too thin and not too thick, bigger than usual and meaty chicken pieces. Someone said that the price of $7 was scandalous, a sign of where we currently are, a world in financial, as well as moral and climatic crises (well, you might as well throw in these other two).

But this is my thing with food; I put the world aside when I’m eating something as mundane as fried chicken. It’s food. It’s something you love (I do). It’s my choice. You’ve made your peace with it. You want to enjoy it.

And I did (also threw in a Fillet O’Fish which I hadn’t had in a long time).