Recovery Day.
Friday evening several of the Usual Suspects attended a very nice wedding, which featured an extended cocktail hour and two open bars throughout the evening. Definitely right down our alley. Several of us enjoyed more than our fair share of potato squeezin’s (vodka) and spent a good deal of time raising hell on the dance floor.
The following day, just about everyone rallied for the first of a string of summer days on The Deck (courtesy of Ken the Anal and his wife, Kathy). Just about all the Usual Suspects came bearing something to eat and a large bottle of vodka. The drinking and bobbing about in the pool commenced in the afternoon and went well into the evening. I again heartily challenged my liver with libations, lots of libations.
Because of back to back bouts of revelry, this morning I felt like warmed over shit a bit under the weather. I forced myself to do my morning walk, albeit a bit shorter and slower than usual. I thought that, once I got started, I would feel better as the toxins worked their way out of my system. Wrong. I remained toxic and oxygen starved for the entire ordeal.
After the march of death, I decided to prove to myself that I would not let my self-induced toxicity keep me from doing something productive. Therefore, I headed out in the backyard to get down on all fours (not easy today) and pick weeds from the small patch of ground, filled with hundreds of dollars worth of topsoil in which nothing grows except farookin’ weeds garden. After a painful hour in the hot sun and dirt, I had made some progress, in that I was now too sore and exhausted to pay much attention to how shitty I still felt.
Finally, after a long, hot shower and a big lunch (hangovers must be fed), I am beginning to feel human again.
I plan on spending the rest of the day doing a bit of reading and wondering what will happen on Deadwood tonight. I will also give some thought as to whether I should be writing blogs as thoroughly uninteresting and un-funny as this one is.