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food 

there's an air of disreputability in getting out of bed to make a snack: the furtiveness in trying not to wake your partner, the breaking of the sleep hygiene compact, the cats who are waiting to narc on you if it looks tasty.

however, tonight i had a partner in crime. then it becomes a nighttime raid, and assault on the fridge with pans and spatulas. the prize: gooey grilled cheese sandwiches.

there would be indigestion and a groggy sense of regret, but for now just victory and satiety.

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