Normally I like nothing better in the evening than to lounge around and chat with people and watch terrible television and slurp away at a couple a few several glasses of wine. Lately, however, I am having some serious motivational problems. Glass one is wonderful! Glass two, however, gets poured down the sink, signifying the end of the evening. It’s so sad to see it swirling down the drain, but I can not drink glass two. I always pour glass two, but I never drink it. I am a wine waster!
Of course, this does not apply to restaurant dining, where I happily order and drink glass two, loudly proclaiming “I am in love with this wine!” for all to hear. Then I get giggly and start talking to my plate.
At home, though, I have become the lightest of lightweights. I don’t even smoke at home anymore. What is up with that, people? It is not as if I am suddenly making an attempt at healthy living in my old age–au contraire!–drinking and smoking are two of my favorite leisure activities. Unfortunately, though, I have become such a wimp that on those rare nights of indulgence (which, contrary to what I might lead you to believe, do not occur all that often) I feel the pain. I have a sore throat from smoking the other night. Yuck! Lung cancer, you are so not invited to my cigarette party!
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