(The room service breakfast alarm clock is the main reason why I'm always fatter at the end of a book-signing tour than I was when it started.)
Last night, before bed, as I filled out the breakfast form they'd left on the pillow, because it's a lovely hotel, and because everything I've eaten here has been nice, in the "fruit juice" slot, I ticked "juice of the day". I thought, they will surprise me. It will be fun.
So this morning I stumbled out of bed, I opened the door, I spoke to the nice lady who brought the breakfast, and, as I performed a simple act of addition and signed my name, she said, "Juice of the day is avocado with lime and skimmed milk," and then seeing the expression on my face, she added, "Don't worry. It's not as bad as it sounds. It's really nice, really."
It was not really nice really.
It was actually significantly worse than it sounds.
What kind of chef looks gloomily around the kitchen and goes "Nothing here to juice. Nothing whatsoever. Nothing but the leftover guacamole ingredients from last night... and we have too much skimmed milk.... AHA!"
Still, one mouthful of it woke me up. And that's the main thing.