It was a new experience for me. I normally avoid getting drunk. I adhere to the 1/2 of beer, or 1 glass of red wine limits and all is well. I’ve been there, done that, and did *not* like it.
But last night, after I drank Shirley Temples at the restaurant while out with Tom’s family, I just went with it. I needed some therapy after totally breaking down in tears when the family began a toast to Tom. “Cheers!” they said, and that was it. I put my head down and cried. It just didn’t feel right to celebrate any longer.
I had to have a little instructional lesson on the “how to’s” of the Irish Car Bomb process.
Surprisingly, I feel just fine this morning. The post memorial numbness is still infusing my head, but that would have been there regardless. Stupid as it was, drinking 5-6 Car Bombs might not have been wise. This morning, when everyone but me slept through Lucky Dog’s desperate bark to be let outside, I was thankful to be able to function.
Poor Lucky was experiencing his own “hangover” from his reckless abandon on the garbage cans that he knocked over while we were out. Leftovers from about 100 people must have had him busy for hours. The Lucky Dog was feeling it this morning. I let him out 4 times before I just grabbed the leash and took him for a walk. Everyone else slept.
What I had, that Lucky did not, was an experienced friend to show me the way. I drank 2 pints of water with some Ibuprofen, and ate, prior to going to bed.
*sigh of relief*
I am sure that Tom was looking down on me and laughing along with me. It was a side of me that few will ever see.