I'm pretty there was some sort of mild hallucinogen in the bheda-ko chhoyla I ate on Friday. According to my wife, I stood up in the middle of the night and pressed my face against the wall for about 10 minutes. Then, I walked into the main room, sat down very rigidly on the couch and said to one of the African masks on the wall: "We must speak of Ireland."
I remember none of this.
But then, it could have nothing to do with Nepali food. This morning I found my clothes from the night before laid out on the dining room floor in that style that my mom would lay out my clothes when I was a kid. On the bathroom floor there was a bottle of antiseptic and one of my rugby mouth guards wrapped up in the chain of my pocket watch. I have absolutely no idea what that's all about.
Hooray. I'm going insane.