So. How was everyone’s Saturday night? Did we all survive? As I lay here nursing a killer
hangov… average, run of the mill headache, I wonder – as I so often do – why I am the way I am. And, I give thanks to the gods that be that I did not, apparently despite my best efforts, need that hospital trip after all.
Me, drunk, reaching out to a very confused and angry Opossum: Here kitty, kitty, kitty…
Does it count if I’m wearing heels and drinking Bailey’s on ice out of a fancy glass à la June Cleaver? Would June Cleaver even drink Bailey’s Irish Cream? I doubt it. Martinis were more her style. Yuck. Although I had a chocolate Martini one time that was kickin’. But nah. I’ll just stick with the Bailey’s. Now, what was I doing again?
Even though tomorrow is a holiday, Sunday still sucks.
Ahhh…President’s Day, a holiday honoring the respected leaders of our fine country – originally dedicated to George Washington and in recent years, including Abraham Lincoln as well – has devolved into massive sales at the car dealer and department stores if the commercials are any indication. Nothing says “respect” and “honor” like 50% off a flat screen t.v. or 2% interest on a 300 year loan for a new all bells and whistles included four-door. Unless you’re employed by a bank, the feds, or schools, you still go to work…so no fun there. And as far as I know, no-one is going to suddenly be inspired to fill my wallet with spendable paper images of those bygone leaders either. It’s just not one of those Monday holidays that can justify a wicked hangover and blank spaces that force you to inquire of every friend you meet throughout the day: “hey, did we see each other last night? what the hell was I doing? no, seriously, WHAT was I doing, and more importantly WHERE? I can’t find my shoes!”
So, yeah. Laundry it is…