This Burrito Costs HOW MUCH?

Twenty Five dollars, is the answer.

And that’s not a bunch, and they don’t add any magic ingredients, that is for one ordinary, though somewhat square-ish burrito.

But then this is what you get for being foolish enough to eat at the many fine restaurants on Boat Quay, the boardwalk of bars and eateries that likes right beside the Central Business District. They know high paid expats and tourists with no sense of the exchange rates go, and so they charge appropriately.

The fiance is sick.

I think this has to do partly with having not eaten supper, but mostly to do with the fact that she was enormously stressed out over having to work late at the office because client demands. If you’ve never worked in the creative/marketing/design field before, the way it goes in Singapore is:

A) Client comes in wanting something.

B) You try to nail down what they want.

C) They say they don’t know what they want, but they’ll know it when they see it.

D) After numerous trial runs, you finally get something they like. They approve, and leave it to their assistants or lower management flunkies.

E) Lower management flunkies and/or assistants, gunning for a promotion or trying to justify their obscene pay checks start making numerous arbitrary and superfluous changes that more or less render the original concept unrecognizable.

F) They approve the new work.

H) Original manager sees the final output and is horrified because this isn’t what they wanted.

I) Lower management flunkies/assistants scramble to find a scapegoat. You’re it.

J) You go back to the drawing board and do original design, or something completely different (The managers may have changed their mind after receiving advice at the bar or over golf).

K) Begin contemplating suicide at this point.

So because she was working late, I kept her company, then afterwards at the ridiculously expensive TexMex restaurant, and then came home where she said her stomach was bothering her. So I went out for some traditional Chinese medicine they call “Po Chai pills”, and when I got back, she was already comatose in bed.

I am going to let her sleep, and I am going to keep writing. I’ve already got it up to 60, 000+ words, but I sense I’ve got maybe another 1,000 left in me before bed.