This was the mother of all mumbles. I was telling my comatose that I was running late for work. And by late I mean I would be 55 minutes early instead of an hour early. For those of you who hate being late, you know what agony this is. It was a mistake to even utter words to my R.E.M. deep sleep chefhusband.
"I'm running late" I mutter from the bathroom while furiously brushing.
"Wylie [Dufresne] called for you. He's mad you're late. Then Daniel [Boulud] called and you didn't even hurry up for him"
Should I be more worried that Erik is completely insane when he's asleep or that he's dreaming of other chefs? Definitely the latter.
photo courtesy NY Magazine
I hate being late too! I'm the same way--my "late" usually ends up meaning I'm right on time instead of early. I would definitely never want to be late for either Wylie or Daniel.
I love your ChefMumbles series. It's so hilarious! I crack up every time I read it.
Hahahhahhaa! Don't you wish you had a sound activated recorder for these precious moments?
When my chef is sleeping, he talks mostly about bacon.
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