The title is a misnomer - I’ve already completed the agenda for today.
Robert Frost, as the English lesson today proved, is an extremely talented poet: ultimately, too talented for 16-going-on-17-year-old minds to grasp without a strenuous mental workout.
In between silently gloating over the commendable (truly) completion of that damn Tulips commentary, blog hopping, and wide-eyed re-consumption of the mesmerising Lucymisser’s videos, I enjoy a piece of 86% cacao dark chocolate.
It melts in my mouth; I close my eyes to isolate the nearly indistinguishably complex array of mixed, subtle flavours, enjoying the slow deterioration of shape and form as the chocolate surrenders its solidity to the loving, cloying warmth of me.
Oh, yummy. I hope it doesn’t accentuate the effect of that cappuccino, which still, unfortunately for my insomnia-plagued mind, has not worn off.
The clock reads 1:11:11.
