An aftermath


Eventually last night I located my friends, by which point they’d reached that time in the evening where you’re pounding shots of whiskey and shouting along to Drake songs for an hour. Hopelessly far behind in the inebriation stakes, I watched befuddled and wondered what I was doing awake when I could have been at home in bed. Scoundrels. They even persuaded me to sing “Billie Jean”. What is the world coming to?

I got home about 1:30, half cut, slept badly, and then had to grind my way through the day at work. Most of them were hors de combat; some came in late then left early, whereas I had a call at 8am and didn’t feel right until I’d had a beer this evening at a Korean-Mexican joint below our office. It’s a good life if you don’t weaken.

I definitely weakened.

This evening I recovered by walking home to get my steps up to the requisite 12,000, then prepared for my travels this weekend by packing, trying to remember to tidy the place up, and then watching my youngest via video link, aa she tried to walk. The video quality was intermittent, so I got to see her sit down on her backside, but everyone has to start somewhere…


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