Dirty Girl

So I accidentally on purpose got rip-roaring drunk last night (there was an Amstel promotion at the Purple Shamrock, and what were we going to do, turn down free beer?), then came home and wolfed down a giant plate of Tom’s leftover Chinese food. Not my finest hour. I was passed out by eleven and wide awake by four-thirty this morning, though, (OH MAN, I KNOW) only slightly headachey and feeling very much like I needed to repent. 

It’s ten o’clock now, and so far today I’ve picked up the bedroom, scrubbed the tub, downloaded the AWESOMEST public radio app for my phone, walked to Castle Island and back, sucked down a large iced coffee, read a couple of chapters of my book, and made a ghetto-fabulous version of Ina’s French Country omelet (with fresh sage from the garden, what what) for Tom and his sister in the hope that K won’t report back to her mom about what a degenerate bastard I am. 

The verdict? 

I should get totally bughouse every night.