
I’m having another one of those days where I can’t get moving. This time I blame a wicked hangover from the ONE beer I drank last night.
Last night I ventured out to a reading some friends were doing on the Lower East Side, discovering the J train as a super fast conduit to that part of the city I rarely visit anymore. I had good in-person conversations with people I mostly converse with via email. It was a good night.
I’m worried about my alcohol intolerance. Giving up caffeine was one thing, but I never intended to become a teetotaler. I guess I should commit to having a nightly drink until my tolerance is rebuilt. That sounds quite exhausting, however.
Yesterday I did a lot and the more I did, the more energetic I felt. I even moved the car for street cleaning at midnight when I got back to the neighborhood. Today, I have accomplished exactly two things. One and a half, even, because I’m waiting for a phone call back on one of the things. There is a teetering pile of dishes to be washed. I now have 45 minutes before school pickup begins. Time for a nap.
“I guess I should commit to having a nightly drink until my tolerance is rebuilt.” Soldier on, Babe!
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