On behaving badly

I fear I'm becoming something of a lush.

In the past two weeks, I've managed to get notably drunk - like, past 3:00, eating popcorn, tummy-feeling-like-a-blender drunk - three times. I've overindulged more than I have in the past year.

It's been a friggin' blast.

Last night was particularly memorable, involving many many glasses of scotch, Jamaican spice tea, banana fritters, Calvin and Hobbes cartoons and laughter. It was supposed to be a single-drink affair, before going on to other engagements and getting to bed at a respectable hour. Instead, the sun was up when I stumbled into my front door this morning. I can't remember the last time I managed to stay out that late. For anyone who knew me five years ago, this is utterly unremarkable. For anyone who's known me recently, though, this is decidedly out of character.

Anyhow. I've decided to stop fretting about how much this is costing me (quite a bit, actually) and what it's doing to my body, and to just go with it.

We all deserve a bit of time to indulge, right?