Tempted

I'm wondering whether potato chips would taste good when washed down with bourbon.

I don't generally call people when I've been drinking. Even though that's the time when I would be most likely to say what's really on my mind. The down side of that being that when I've been drinking, what's really on my mind is nearly always hanky panky. Or omelets. I do sometimes send text messages when in this somewhat more vulnerable state. And that's worse, because I can always see exactly what I sent the morning after. And there's often something to be ashamed of in that.

I feel as if I have been on vacation. For too long. I'm almost worried to return home to whatever awaits me there. Even if all it turns out to be is routine.

It's on the verge of being next year. And I don't feel anything at all.

Something killed that cat. Some say it was curiosity. But the more I hear about it, the more I think it was probably feline leukemia.

Did I ever have the face of a child?