Friday. A not bad day. All this business about the aching mouth and head, yes it's still around, but it's somewhat better than it's been over this last miserable month. It was certainly better that I picked up the key to the studio last night after work instead of heading to San Francisco for a pre St. Patrick's Day bar hop with the usual crew starting at Harrington's. Crawling out of bed the next (work) morning, mouth a mattress; head, well, head aching as mine does day in and day out, who needs it? This morning I understood this completely after meeting one or two of last night's pub crawlers as they avoided the direct light of the sun. Self righteous, but sober. Hell of an epitaph, don't you think? He was “self righteous, but sober?”
So, the sun was shining today after rain last night, colder than I can remember for a March, but otherwise I'm sitting here at the computer with a bottle of Corona sitting in the refrigerator (I can hear a faint muffled cry coming from the kitchen), Ms. Emmy is sitting on my lap (I must remember the cat food run tomorrow), the News Hour is starting soon and I, self righteous but sober I, am sitting here writing. Makes you want to throw up, doesn't it?