Monday Morning is Waiting Like a Crocodile Under the Bed

It's late. I was helping my son move all of his stuff from one apartment to another.
If you help someone, anyone at all, you get to eat one of these. It's your duty--it rebalances the world so everything is in harmony.

If you don't like harmony, you can add a little random percussion with one of these Sherman tanks. It won't balance anything, but it will certainly convince your friends to share their chocolate mousses with you.

I don't know if Jean-Paul Sartre ate any chocolate mousses during his long career. It would depend on whether or not Flaubert ate any. On the other hand, if his friend, Camus, had eaten any chocolate mousse, Sartre would have been compelled to denigrate it as bourgeois, humanist, and possibly cursed by the demon Descartes. So he would have walked away from it and gone off to join the Maoists.

That would have left Simone de Beauvoir all alone with a provocative chocolate mousse.

To eat or not to eat.... I don't think she would have worried too much about whether or not the chocolate was for itself or in itself. She was free to choose, after all.

Tomorrow is another day. And I have a dental appointment. Monday morning. I was free to choose.

No worries.