I found on my desk a small pile of mail.
On top was a handwritten note-to-self that began:
There’s a thousand reasons I shouldn’t drink,
My. Mind. Starts. Racing.
What the hell!?
Uh. Oh. This is some sort of private thought I drunkenly wrote down, months ago. I’ll bet it’s fucked up, too. This is just great. James found it and he left it OUT IN THE OPEN to like, send some sort of message. Oh man, this is bad, bad, BAD. Oh Spaghetti, what did you? Think, think, think. When was the last time you got drunk, like really drunk. Black out drunk. Hell, if I'm black out drunk I might not even realize I was ever that drunk in the first place? Okay, take a deep breath, you're freaking out...
My heart is pounding.
I suddenly feel warm all over.
My pits get a little sweaty.
Somehow, I was also thinking about the picture below.
The note continues:
but I can’t think of one right now.
OH YEAH!!! Now I remember!!!
There's a thousand reasons I shouldn't drink,
but I can't think of one right now.
No, really, duh.
And stop being paranoid, you weirdo.
It was late one Friday. James and I were sitting in the living room reading home remodeling books, drinking cheap red wine and watching DVR’d reruns of the Three Stooges. I love quotes so I jotted this down to add to my QuoteBook NoteBook. That’s all.
No big deal.
But can you believe I thought about all those things during the time it took me to read the first seven words of a fifteen word quote?
Listening to: Man Man – Big Trouble