It was called, I think, I believe, Midnight Diner. It was about a diner that opened at Midnight and ran until daylight. On the menu there was only one disk, a pork miso soup. But the owner would make anything the person wanted. It seems he did have the ingredients to make anything. At least we never saw him turning a person down. It, the Midnight Diner, was small, about 12 seats all on a counter. The one guy helped everyone. Besides the food, wonderful Japanese food, he listed to people. Sometimes offering a bit of wisdom, but mostly he just listened. Of course there were people talking with each other, there was a lot of help that way. If you have Netflix, are OK with reading subtitles, this could be a nice thing to watch.
Perhaps I will have some Grape Nuts. Perhaps I will have some potatoes, boiled, smashed, fried with onions and whatever is in the refrigerator. Breakfast is still over twelve hours away. It does not hurt to think ahead. Then again, it has been quite awhile since we have had oatmeal. We thought, at one time, that we would have oatmeal every other day. You know, oatmeal is good for you. You do know that, right? Well, there are hours to contemplate breakfast.
This is the kind of things I type about when I do not have an idea about what I want to type about. So I type “It was called …” and off I go on a memory. Or “perhaps I will …” and well there we are. Or here we are.
MichaelRpdx :: ih3k