Gluttony and gratitude

After consuming what He declared was the best burger in Australia (someone became something of a burger critic during his time in America) last night and staggering back to the hotel to lie belly up like two pregnant pups, it was something of a surprise to find that this morning we were slated in for breakfast at Pancakes in Paradise. For those American readers the closest comparison would be an IHOP, if you can imagine it with service slowed down to a snail's pace. It was a surprise because well the meals are generous in size and well, He was still rattling on about the burger. Actually He was trying to work out if there was some way to squeeze in another one for lunch.

Anyway back to pancakes and waffles and eggs and bacon and sausages and hash browns and toast and mushrooms and, and, and...

Well in fairness He had pancakes; chocolate ones smothered in sauces and fruit and cream and chocolate chips and dusted generously with icing sugar (just in case some member of the sugar family wasn't represented). One small slave might have consumed the rest, minus the waffles, pancakes and toast. The chilli fries last night were something of a gastronomic Russian roulette without the adding of extra bullets at breakfast.

After that we hopped on the light rail to go to His favourite gaming shop, where one tried to look interested as he hummed and harred over this and that. It took hours; in fact it was lunch time by the time we made it back to our end of town. Not that we were very hungry, in fact both of us admitted to fancying something light. So one suggested we do a little Yum Cha at a place one had spotted yesterday, when we went out for the lube that was forgotten in yesterday's kerfuffle.

So off we scampered up the escalator where one's nose was met by the most agreeable of smells... the nose never lies about food. And lo we found the Nirvana of Yum Cha. It was fresh, it was delectable and they carried an extensive menu. A menu might one add that a certain someone ordered from most generously, considering He is the only one who can eat most of what was ordered. He mowed through the offerings sighing and whimpering with pleasure.

A fact one was to remind Him of as he whined and whimpered during the walk back to the hotel, made in an effort to stave off the sugar rush that was threatening to put him in a carbohydrate coma.

See there was one tiny problem with all this gastronomic excess...

We had reservations for dinner...

At the only place one actually wanted to dine in, in fact it was the only thing one actually wanted to do while at the coast... the food is that good.

So He did the only decent thing. He manned up and took one out and tried not to look too distressed when a plate of oysters was plopped down in front of him with great aplomb. And He only looked slightly bilious when he thought one wasn't looking...

And one small slave is grateful for His courage in the face of such adversity...

Of course that gratitude was somewhat mitigated later that night when drifting off He asked, where's my pillow?

Under your head?

Not these ones, the black one He replied

There is no black one

Yes there was He insisted. I put it in the car. There were two of them; yours and mine.

Um, there was no yours. There was one pillow and one doona tucked up in a pillow case both of which are here.

So you didn't pack mine He confirmed

You didn't ask.

Mutters next time perhaps He will be a little less concerned about which pair of red Converse to pack and respect the system :D