heracleitus

I get home from work around midnight. I change and walk into the kitchen with my water bottle to, you know, get some water. My roommate is in there washing a dish. He points to a plate in the sink. He says, "You have to be careful with that." I nod. He continues, "It's china," but he doesn't say it normally; rather he uses that slo-mo drawl usually reserved for foreigners and the mentally retarded. "Do you know what china is?"

No fucking clue, Jack. I've been living here for six months. Used the china plates every day. Haven't broken a one yet, though I'm sorely tempted right now.