Thank goodness for short weeks.

I only have to hang in there until tomorrow after lunch, then I get a nice, long weekend. Thank goodness, 'cause I'm feeling just exhausted this week. And we'll probably spend most of the morning tomorrow putting together our company picnic, so that just barely counts as work. I am responsible for the tomatoes, onions and cheese for the burgers. I think I can stretch slicing for an hour or so, don't you?

So how was last weekend, with its myriad of socializing opportunities? Well, Friday night was lovely--I had dinner with a friend who was visiting from out-of-state. Italian food, iced tea, grasshopper pie. Ran into one of my theatre pals I hadn't seen in a while, since I've been sort of out of the loop lately. (Hi, Jenny! She reminded me she reads my blog. Heh.)

I got my usual chores out of the way on Saturday morning, and took Pudge to the vet Saturday afternoon for his yearly checkup. He's perfect, by the way. The vet even said "he looks so handsome--did he just have a bath?" Pudge has NEVER had a bath. He's self-cleaning, apparently. I said as much to the vet, and she thought that was hilarious. "Did you come with the self-cleaning option? How nice for you!"

Pudge and I stopped at my favorite restaurant for a carry-out order of the "crack noodles" I'm so ridiculously addicted to, and then I took a short nap before time to go to Saturday night's pickin' party.

I'd forgotten to pick up some decent beer, my preferred party beverage, so I decided to just take the bottle of wine I bought on a whim a while back and stuck in the fridge.

You know...for a "Nensa" member, I can be awfully stupid sometimes. Will I EVER learn that wine drunk to excess is not a good thing for me? I can put away a massive amount of beer, and as long as it's GOOD beer (no Bud, Busch, Miller or Coors), there will be nary a complaint from my body the next day. Wine? Not so much.

I drank the bottle I took. Plus a small margarita (the host was experimenting with a new recipe which involved fresh lemon and lime juices, plus limoncello--I had to try it). And then, when my own white wine was gone, a large glass of someone else's red. Thankfully I also had chips and hummus, veggies and pizza, but even with the heavy starch load, I was feeling that wine. Lordy. I ate another slice of pizza, and eventually felt steady enough to drive home. I was feeling pretty good when I got home, so I stupidly, STUPIDLY, broke my own hard and fast rule, and did not have a large glass of water and my NSAID of choice.

Big mistake. I spent the entire day Sunday on the couch, DYING. I missed the church picnic--and the weather was perfect for it. Seriously, a gorgeous, gorgeous day. I finally felt somewhat human again around 3:00, but I didn't feel up to driving all the way across town to watch other people drink margaritas at the potluck. Just the thought of being in the same room with alcohol made my stomach flip. (To punish myself, I did go out and mow the lawn, though...which actually made me feel quite a bit better. Sometimes too much couch time becomes counter-productive.)

The lesson here, boys and girls? When you have an entire weekend of events planned, parcel out your drinking. Pace yourselves. You're not as young as you used to be.

You know the only thing I really miss about my 20s? Drinking without hangovers. Sigh.

This weekend I'm supposed to attend a couple of musicals with a friend who has tickets. Should be fun. The 4th itself I will undoubtedly spend as I have the last few--trying to reassure my panicked dog that it's all going to be okay, and becoming increasingly frustrated with my thoughtless neighbors down the street--you know, the ones who've been setting off fireworks in limited amounts for days already, and who just don't know when to quit on the 4th. They generally shoot them off way into the wee hours of the 5th. And the police don't care, I found out the hard way, even though IT'S ILLEGAL TO SHOOT FIREWORKS IN THE CITY LIMITS AT ALL, EVER. And when you have a dog who refuses to go outside to relieve himself until the loud noises stop, well...you want the loud noises to stop! Pity poor Pudge...sitting there panting with his legs crossed.

Well, that pretty much catches you up on my exciting, exciting life. Can I get a whoo hoo? No? Yeah, I didn't think so.