I got to breakfast at one thousand two hundred seconds since the beginning of the seventh hour of the orbit It seams this is a good time to get to breakfast because at this time the fod supply is rich, and perhaps best of all, the dining room is sans most of the residents.
Breakfast here, while more standard than most meals is still an odd experience; yesterday I had musli, big mistake, it was grainy as musli should be, but lacked any variation in texture at all, it also forms large clumps when “milk” (which I’ll deal with momentarily) is added.
Above, I said “I’ll deal with momentarily” with reference to “milk”, the moment to deal with “milk” is upon us.
The observant reader will note that the word milk is imprisoned within a tomb of quotation marks, though I am terribly evil, and the arbitrary imprisonment of miscellaneous words is not beyond my vast capability, in this instance such correctional action is fully necessary, because we wouldn’t want the substance I speak of to be confused with the full-bodied goodness that most of us (except those lactose-intolerant bartends!) know as milk; this is a sort of milk substitute, a “diet milk” if you will, it’s slightly too watery, and appears slightly off-colour to my eye, although this may be the light in the dining room it really wouldn’t surprise me if they were breeding synthetic milk and passing their crappy forgery off as bonafide, 100% natural, cow juice.
I really am enjoying having my own place to live, it makes life a lot easier in some respects, the prime example of this is my new found ability to leave my toilet seat in it’s only truly useful position (not withstanding defecational requirements).
No net yet, in order to do that I need to get a phone line of my own which I intend to do some time in the next few weeks, it would be sooner but I am a tad with all things rehab at the moment.