I am undone. I have been duped by a vapid writer.
Tonight, I selected a fine vintage Marie Callander's salisbury steak dinner, which, I might add, is one of my specialties. So much so, I describe it as a spe-she-al-a-tee because even five syllables does pale justice to the culinary tapestry I weave with microwave and toaster oven. I can't take full credit, though. My best epicurean triumphs spring from a Dramamine garnish I learned from a sea cook on a rough passage, years ago.
With experienced flair, I followed instructions. Four minutes, stir the mac and faux cheese, rotate the alleged steak one half turn clockwise, and heat for an additional couple of minutes.
As I was waiting the requisite two minutes for the formerly frozen dinner to cool a little, I realized with despair I'd fallen for something akin to trusting fake AI news.
I rotated the steak 1/2 turn clockwise. I put faith in what I thought was a well researched recipe, carefully avoiding a 1/2 turn counterclockwise.
Too late for rebellion, I realized there is no difference. A half turn in either direction results in the same terminal orientation.
Which is how I feel, now that I've enjoyed my supper. In a terminal orientation. I could dig the box out of the trash to see the "use by" date on my salisbury steak but I'd rather not know.
The Dramamine will kick in shortly, anyway.
Tonight, I selected a fine vintage Marie Callander's salisbury steak dinner, which, I might add, is one of my specialties. So much so, I describe it as a spe-she-al-a-tee because even five syllables does pale justice to the culinary tapestry I weave with microwave and toaster oven. I can't take full credit, though. My best epicurean triumphs spring from a Dramamine garnish I learned from a sea cook on a rough passage, years ago.
With experienced flair, I followed instructions. Four minutes, stir the mac and faux cheese, rotate the alleged steak one half turn clockwise, and heat for an additional couple of minutes.
As I was waiting the requisite two minutes for the formerly frozen dinner to cool a little, I realized with despair I'd fallen for something akin to trusting fake AI news.
I rotated the steak 1/2 turn clockwise. I put faith in what I thought was a well researched recipe, carefully avoiding a 1/2 turn counterclockwise.
Too late for rebellion, I realized there is no difference. A half turn in either direction results in the same terminal orientation.
Which is how I feel, now that I've enjoyed my supper. In a terminal orientation. I could dig the box out of the trash to see the "use by" date on my salisbury steak but I'd rather not know.
The Dramamine will kick in shortly, anyway.
Between this and apps that claim to write your essays for you, no wonder we have college graduates who know nothing.
