So, I’m packing away last night. Putting my kitchen into glove boxes from the warehouse, moving along at a pretty good clip. Earlier, thinking it would be kind of fun to buy a 6-pack and snip along on as I load up boxes, I bought some beer.
I should have stopped after three. I wasn’t feeling drunk or anything, just very very tired. When I forced myself to drink the fourth one it was all over. I could have passed out where I was standing, head slumped over a cardboard box with the tape gun in my hand.
In my younger days it was take at least a six-pack just to start to feel ‘happy’. But alas … I drink very little now, and I’m a lot older.
So now I have to start my day with a baby hangover. Serves me right!
It’s going to be a fun weekend.
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