So I got in about two hours worth of work in before resigning myself to the office toilet for some quality heaving. I finally gave up and went home. (And really, I was and continue to be very put out by all this…I had one beer, one admittedly potent gin and tonic, and five sips of an LIT. I blame the bartender. I blame the “beer before liquor” rule. I blame twenty-one years of relative sobriety.) On the walk back to Carrboro, some idiot drove past and made kissy noises at me. Pity he hadn’t been driving a bit slower; I could have thrown up in his car.
I was pleased to find a sleepy Neil on the couch when I got home. Among his many other fine qualities, Neil is an exceptional generator of comforting body heat and cuteness. A few hours of napping and a lot of water later and I was pretty much back to normal. But poor little Jess is still a sickly, starving thing, and Holly and I did our best to ease her suffering with the healing powers of Star Trek, Wayne’s World, and Wendy’s. A strange man who turned out to be my dad showed up at the door while we were watching House to report that my car-beast is functional once more. (Felicidades!) So today was, at the last, a good day. Bed!
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