Our lovely little family spent a beautiful Saturday together, watching cartoons, playing in the yard, and driving around town in the Beetle. The only thing marring it was the fantastic hangover I had most of the day.
Bill did his best to help me cope, making me breakfast, keeping Joe entertained and well fed, canoodling with me during Joe's naptime, and--best of all--not making me feel guilty about drinking one too many PBRs at Market Street's 80's night. Two is definitely my limit from now on, especially when I'm on my own, without a chaperone to help ensure I don't make an ass of myself--for added to the woes of yesterday's crapulence were the pangs of anxiety in hoping my bar mates, whom I work with, still respect me after all my drunken blather and frenetic flailing on the dance floor.
