Some people are "high on life"; I’m just full of booze, which isn’t so great from a perspective of positivity about the whole world and the wonders therein, but when there’s a beer stall less than five minutes from your front door, it’s just as reliable.
We had a relaxing Hari Raya day today; I got up late, visited the Tiong Bahru Bakery in Tiong Bahru (where else would it be?), lifted some weights, napped and then started drinking beer.
Perhaps unfortunately, I started at four and carried on until 10:30, which means that now, as midnight approaches in comprehensively soused and about as proficient at conversational English as my daughter. Then again, she’s been on milk only. I’d like to see her cope with the English language after a few pints.
Actually, that’s a terrible idea. Don’t get your baby drunk. It’ll be legless after less than half a pint. Lightweights, these newborns.
We made the fairly obvious discovery that a crying baby is easily pacified if you stick a bottle of milk in its mouth; if we’d learned this earlier, it would have made the lives of many taxi drivers a bit easier, but no matter. Now, we know we need two bottles of milk for any expedition: one for the way out, one for the way back. I haven’t quite figured out the power situation on our breast pump, but once I understand how to run it off mains current, I’m sure I can build a 24 hour milking shed. I’m sure there’s no argument my wife will have with that.
We had gone out to see friends and get drunk. Once I was fully lit up, we went home and then I went drinking again. This was either consolidation of a strong position, or compounding an error. Either way, it was a bit daft after putting on excess weight this week to go on the alcoholic carbloading diet. I’m not sure that a few extra sit-ups will cure that tactical error. Still, I may yet defeat the laws of physics and common sense.
Tomorrow morning will be fun, though.