Tales of an Insomniac

I could fill almanacs with the things I do when I cannot sleep.

Take the other day, for instance, when one sleep-deprived night led to me crashing early the next. Surprise of surprises, I was wide awake in a few hours. A most vicious cycle it is.

So with nothing to do, and because I had fallen asleep with my laptop beside me, snug as a pillow; I opened the browser and began surfing aimlessly. And for some reason I started on cookery blogs.

Who in their right minds reads cookery blogs at 2 in the night? People like me. Sugar-starved chocolate-crazed people like me. So there I was, reading how to make crepes and crème brulee (and religiously saving pages for a better day), when I came across the five-minute cake. A cake in FIVE MINUTES. A fluffy, yummy, chocolaty cake; ready before you could say Jack Sparrow. Oh, the beauty of the idea!

Why not make one right now, I thought. As if on cue, my tummy let out a small growl. But a cake, at this time of the night? Eggs and flour and butter and the whole schmazel? What if mom thought a thief broke in? Cake wouldn’t taste so good with a saucepan-shaped bulge on my forehead.

(I occasionally make midnight chocolate mousse, a super-easy recipe learnt from a friend in college when our only available equipment was a 17th century electric stove. The name arose because the call-of-the-mousse always comes at twelve in the night. Even then, a cake is a whole new ball game.)

Anyway, I crept downstairs, trying my best not to step on those tiny lizards that pop up in the summer.

I opened the fridge and counted the eggs and butter.

And my eyes fell on a can of tuna.

I knew what I had to do.

Out came knives, tomatoes, onions and a generous helping of mayonnaise.

Two stuffed tuna sandwiches later, I was happily asleep in bed.

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