Yeah, not a lot happening around here. I'm not done with the plumbing job, and I refuse to write a horrid little story about that near calamity till the glue is mostly dry. But rest assured that within a couple more days, I've got a great post brewing, and with pictures.
While most of the work of the bathroom was done today, the actual finally nearly fixing the problem, I've refused all day to be concerned about it. I've felt like shit all day, and I have payed a rather smallish price for my indiscretion of last night.
I went out last night. "Went out" isn't nearly quite explanatory in that most people would assume more than actually happened. What actually happened was I should just as well have stayed home and saved the damn money.
As I mentioned yesterday, The Boy and I missed a show that the family had planned on seeing, so as a conciliatory gesture, Momma suggested I go out for a bit. I'm not out of this house without kids nearly often enough. Sometimes, that means that I go out and drink a few more beers than maybe I ought.
It wasn't the amount of beer I poured into me but the rapidity of the pouring in. General maintenance suggests a drink an hour. That's roughly the amount of time your body needs to process the beverage. I don't generally care to follow that rule, but I also tend toward some small amount of responsible thoughts if not actual action.
Going out, this time, meant standing at one bar for a couple of beers, then going somewhere else to be just as bored. It was a mostly sucky night, considering it was basically a wasted going out. I should have stayed home and actually made a point of doing something not sucky on a different night. But that whole wish in one hand and shit in the other thing seems a little timely here.
Today, when I finally did bother to wake all the way up, I didn't really feel to bad. I've been kind of tired and sluggish all day, but how much of that is just my general nature? For a good portion of the early part of my day I kept getting dizzy when I stood up too quickly. That can happen anytime one stands up too quickly, but this was different and special.
I accept that being a drunkard, I'll occasionally have to pay the price for my sinful ways. Considering how much worse I could have had it, I will admit that my spinny head was getting off pretty damn lightly. My liver is getting to where I have to whack it with a broom handle once in a while, like the starter on an old Cutlass, to make it start working, but they've got scientists growing livers in a damn organ farm, so I'll just buy a new one one day.
And there you go, a crappy story being pooped out as a blog post so that I can feel good when I see all the excrementary ponderings I've come up with.