One task that needed to be completed before leaving was holding my mail. As I was leaving the post office in Alger this morning, a man with a cane limped heavily up the ramp. I said, "let me get the door for you." He replied, "oh, I'll get there eventually."
As he went into the building and I began to walk away, he called, "yep, just got the leg last week."
It's enough to drive you to drink. I don't drink often and I don't drink much. So how did I accidentally get a little tipsy at noon on Monday? The potato vegetable soup I was having for lunch had tasted great the night before with a little wine, so I poured myself a glass. Maybe a little more than last night, but not as much as you'd be served in a restaurant. Perfect.
Shortly after lunch, I thought a cup of coffee would be good to chase away my sinus headache. Looking in the fridge, I was out of cream, but I did have that wonderful rum liquor a friend had given me. Midway through my coffee, I realized I had a buzz. Of course, I drank the other half.
And I must say, it made cramming two cats into their own carriers then hauling them to the vet a little more pleasant.
Now if I were on vacation, this wouldn't be a problem. Why does location matter?
And that may explain why I decided to use my camera phone and take that picture. It's not a great book, and the cover makes it seem like a torrid romance novel, which it soundly is not (darn it). The story isn't great, but marking my place each night sure gives me a kick.