JK and Limei at 12 Square Metres had been planning to take a break over Christmas, but.... the unhelpful rules of the Chinese state bureaucracy derailed that plan; they've had to defer their trip for a few days. Well, it'll be nice to have them around for the holiday.
And they have - rashly - promised to lay on a cold Christmas buffet tomorrow evening.
This is too kind an offer to spurn, but.... well, The Chairman and I (and Dr Manhattan.... and anyone else who hasn't left town...) will be doing our traditional Christmas pig-out at lunchtime. After that, it is questionable whether we'll be wanting to look at food again for another 48 hours or so.
There's an O. Henry short story about a tramp who gets treated to two Christmas lunches (or is it Thanksgiving??), feels unable to decline the kindness even though the food overload nearly kills him. I did this once before, 4 or 5 years ago - thinking I could do the traditional lunch (with Big Frank, and my girlfriend of the time, The Buddhist) at the old John Bull Pub (much missed), and then have a few hours to "walk it off" before attempting another Christmas meal in the evening with married friends over by Chaoyang Park. Lunch dragged on rather longer than anticipated, and the planned "recovery walk" was scuppered by severely inclement weather and heavy snow on the ground. The day only proved survivable because the evening cooking schedule was running badly behind (all pitching in together in the kitchen: chaotic, but fun - I still recall the Buddhist's anguished complaint of, "Don't put a vegetarian in charge of the gravy!"), and we didn't start eating again until 9pm or so. Nevertheless, I nearly bust my gut.
I don't want to be causing myself that much pain again. Pacing. Pacing is the key.
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