Much earlier today I had a Bloody Mary.

I know, I know. It was one of those rare occurences, lunar in nature, that must have prompted me to actually have a drink but Mr. Manners made it for me, and it was rather tasty, and not too spicy, and not too tomato-y, and just right, so down it went.

Suddenly, I was tipsy. It wasn't even noon. I'm rather shocked at myself. I do somewhat too fondly recall, I think, the anesthesizing nature of alcohol. It would have been right pleasant to slide back into a nap.

I've long since learned, though, that stopping at one means that life remains pleasant. Stopping at two is borderline, and stopping at three is asking for God to come and punch you really hard in the left temple, while kicking you in the stomach simultaneously...just...better not do that.

Still, it was mighty tasty.