Okay fine, here's the post from last week that I deleted because you asked.
I know I'm a little old to get drunk on accident, I mean really. And yet, here I sit just the teensiest bit trashed and here's how it happened. Thinking about it now, I can only imagine what the people at the restaurant were thinking.
Things have been a little more intense than usual around here and I am waiting to hear back on stupid lab results so just in case I figured I needed to go on one last binge before getting cut off my sugar smack. Hello, margaritas.
Well, just the one at first. But it went so fast. So Matt orders me another under the "you deserve it" umbrella. And this is when things went wrong. Had I had more time to sit and sip my drink, I am almost sure that at some point it would've occurred to me that my tongue is starting to feel a little thicker (and not due to swelling from spicy food), or that my laugh is getting louder, or that my face feels super flushed.
Instead, though, Sam decided he was "all done." Which he announced sweetly at first by using his sign language and his words. "All done," he said, hands waving in front of him like a baseball referee calling a player safe. "All done!" he said, much louder when we didn't jump the first time. "All done!" wiggling out of the seat now. "All done!" Tugging at his bib, choking himself with it. All eyes on us. Awesome.
So I had no choice. My margarita arrived mere seconds before Sam decided he would be contained no longer. As Sam struggled to get out of his high chair, I pounded my drink like a freshman in a drinking contest. I won.
The prize? It's early in the evening and I'm headed to the couch to tune out my worries and catch up on my peeps at the Office.
God bless early bed times. Please forgive any typos because, well … you know.