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November 25, 2011
You'd think J and I would know by now that if we eat Indian food, especially at a lunch buffet, we're going to lapse into a coma that lasts for at least 12 hours, rendering us useless to do anything but loll on the sofa looking like we need breathing tubes and feeling like we need our stomachs pumped and our heads examined. But no, here we are, dozing off on the sofa in the late afternoon, leaving Woody Allen and Diane Keaton to their witty neurosis without us as their witness. For some reason this brings me marvelous comfort.