No good story, I know, starts with “I woke up hung over,” but bear with me.

I woke up hung over this morning after a rare night of carousing. It was 8:50am, and there was a chef on the phone. He was returning my call. I wanted him to taste some roast chickens with me for an upcoming column. I managed to mumble my way through this proposal, and he accepted and we made a tentative plan, which I scrawled on a Post-It by the computer.

Shortly thereafter, Laurie said, “Hey, why does this say, ‘Bring chicks in the night?'”

When I was finished laughing, I looked at the note. It said: BRING CHIX IN TUE NIGHT. While I was explaining this to Laurie, a voice came from the couch. I mean, the couch wasn’t talking. It was Iris.

> **Iris:** Dada?

> **Me:** Yes?

> **Iris:** CHICKS IN THE NIGHT!