I knew something was different this morning when I walked into the kitchen.
Jim was already sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping from a mug, texting on his phone. I said ‘Good Morning’ to him and he answered me in gibberish.
I tried again, thinking he didn’t hear me the first time but the response is the same.
So I reached over and touched his forehead to check if he’s feverish (After all he wouldn’t start talking in tongues- he’s on the wrong side for that).
Jim’s forehead is cool and he slaps my hand away and calls me a moron. Obviously he spoke in Japanese. I dread to find out the reason why.