December 19, 2005
Last night was my husband’s company Christmas party.  This morning, I am hungover.  Not terribly.   Not sick or spinny or sweaty or anything.  Just ugh.  The kind of ugh that makes you want to eat 47 Taco Bell bean burritos and drink orange juice until your bladder thinks it’s vacationing in Boca Raton.  The kind of ugh that makes you want to sit on your butt and rediscover America’s love affair with Bob Barker.
I had to pick my children up this morning at 7:15.  Which means I had to leave my house at 6:55.
I’m too old for this.  I had forgotten.  But it was a hell of a lot of fun trying to remember.
Flights land today for my friend VJ, and for my friend Susan and her family.  Susan has twin boys about a month older than Stealth.  It’s gonna be a busy week.

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