When is that sweet old burn too much of a good thing?
If I was my ex-wife, then once upon a time enough could only be found staring back at you through the thick lens of empty glass. She’s better now, but sometimes I wonder if I’d have better luck losing myself in a bottle. She didn’t. She found she couldn’t fit inside and I’m quite a bit larger than she was at the time. I think for me, I’ll stick to a glass or two and a lot of badly sung music.
You know, honestly I think there would be way fewer alcoholics in the world if booze actually did kill pain or erase memories the way people pretend it does. Or way, way more.
And to my neighbors: I’m sorry. I can’t sing when I’m drunk. Like at all. I recommend you drink with me. Then at least we’ll all have fun.