Travelling Precognito with my Beans Half Baked

Waiting for a bowl of baked beans to ripen is hardly my idea of a good time. To alleviate the tension, I often rely on board games and miniature waves generated by kitchen appliances that start with the letter M. In roughly the time it takes to sift the alphabet for usable nouns, my bowl of half-baked beans will have crossed the threshold between unripe and moderately swollen, lending an air of quiet optimism to an otherwise monotonous meal.

While it's true that optimism and anticipation often go hand in hand, travelling precognito virtually guarantees a pleasant dining experience. Unlike hindsight, peering forward demands a commanding view of the kitchen, unobscured by the preconceptions and utensils I forgot to wash in the heat of the knight-takes-queen debacle that sent me to bed without supper, or a moral.

In an effort to right one wrong, I would simply indicate that, while an ounce of precognition is certainly the mother of prevention, half-baked beans make unreliable board-game strategists.  It's too late to do anything about the last supper.