I've been a real homebody lately. Lola, books, Nesto, I've been reveling in the three of them. I definitely go through streaks in which I prefer to be alone, to be quiet, to listen to myself think. When Lola isn't yapping, that is. Along with this hermit inclination, I consciously decided to exercise regularly, eat healthy-ish and abstain from my nightly glass of wine.
The first two are pretty self-explanatory, I want to look nice and feel nice. The wine though, ahhhh, I LOVE WINE. Cheap wine. Dry, red wine. Yummmmmm.... When I found myself actually wishing I could have a glass of wine for breakfast before work though, I decided to lay off the sauce for awhile. And it's worked out well, I feel good about it.
Well, today is my birthday. And last night I was due to go out with my Wednesday night pals, Roy and Meg. Royboy bailed on me, go figure but Meg and I got saucy.
After some Celtic Crossing shots and during bar dice I remembered the problem with drinking after a hiatus. Those limits I was so comfortable with, the limits I had meticulously researched during my late teen years in a journal dedicated specifically to my limits...had dropped. DRASTICALLY.
So, I ended up giving myself an intimate encounter with the Porcelain God for my birthday...twice.
Being hungover on your birthday should be impossible along with getting sick while pregnant. I guess I could thank my lucky stars I am neither sick nor pregnant but I'm too fucking hungover.
So wise am I in my 24 years.