Night Cheese. We know it. We love it. Whether it's blocked, sliced, or shredded, it's 1 AM and we are eating it over the kitchen sink. Its siren song calling to us from
the little dairy cubby in our fridges. The door seems to open itself. A warm, yet cold--because of the fridge--light hits us, like opening the briefcase from Pulp Fiction. But inside that briefcase? Cheese.
There's some extra from the party earlier that night. There's that odd leftover slice from making a sandwich. Taco Tuesday? Never heard of it--it's Munchie Monday, gimme those little shredded pieces of joy. Sprinkle them over my mouth like edible confetti. It's a party of one and I am invited