A Funny Thing Happened

I woke up with a goal in mind. Today, yes TODAY, I was going to finish up this proposal/research paper that has been hanging over my head like a guillotine.  The word limit was 3000-5000 words, and I have had 1300 words (all appendices and the introduction) finished for weeks now.  Research is piling up on my desk, with tons of notes and outlines, but I have been sitting behind the biggest writer's block of the century.  Add to that a sick baby for a week, meaning she stayed at home with me rather than go to the sitter, and my work time/desire has been shot.  Until last night, when I just shook myself and said, "Tomorrow.  DO IT TOMORROW."

So, after having a banana and some coffee at my desk this morning, I dove into the material.  About 6 hours later I hit "save" on the nice, neatly formatted 3900-odd words and started high-fiving my computer.  Seriously, I could have danced some kind of Irish jig if I had any Irish rhythm.  Not only did I finish with rough draft, with just minor stuff to add next week after one more interview, but I had another hour and a half at least until Amos and Hazel would be home!  WOOOO, SPRING BREAK!!!!!!!
To celebrate I decided to take a shower AND use a sugar scrub.  I know, it's like my own private honeymoon with myself!  After stepping into the special, awesome, Vera Wang, Amos-gifted robe that I can't wear around a baby, I thought a little apple wine might be nice while I let my hair air-dry.  I always let my hair dry for about 20, 30 minutes before using the blow dryer, so why not make that time special when I'm feeling so awesome, right?  Right!  My good friend Amy gave me two bottles of homemade apple wine last summer, one of which was chilling in the fridge for just such a moment.  I poured a glass and settled down at my computer to catch up on all my favorite blogs.
My phone rings from the kitchen.  I stand up, stumble into the hallway, and realize two things.  First of all, I'm walking down the hall bracing myself on either side with my hands.  Secondly, I'm walking like that because I'm drunk.  Like, druuuuunk.  Drunk-dialing drunk.  Mouth open drunk. Bangs are in my eyes and I'm not moving them because I don't see them drunk.  Yep.  And, being drunk, I think this is pretty funny.  
See, I kind of skipped lunch because I was in a writing fury.  And I kind of wasn't hungry because I drank 6 cups of not-decaf coffee today after breakfast.  Yeaaaaah.
All I can think is that I have GOT to eat and it has to be NOW because if Amos comes home and sees me I am going to be kind of embarrassed.  I blow-dry my hair, whipping that machine around (FYI, not all that fun if you're drunk), throw on a flannel, and careen down my crazy steep staircase, hoping to duck into the natural foods store below us and grab some kind of granola to soak up the wine.  I bust out onto the sidewalk and hear "It's Mama!!!!" from across the way.  I turn in classic slow-motion to see Amos and Hazel waving like adorable maniacs, mouths open and everything.  Of course he can tell something's up, and of course he pokes fun at me while we're in Tom's.  It's only when we get upstairs, and he sees how little is gone from the bottle, that he actually laughs so hard he has to put Hazel down before he drops her.  
The moral of this story is that if you have a cool husband he'll take you out for Mexican so you can sober up at 4 pm.

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