Sometimes it's no fun being the adult.  Today I was feeling particularly dragged-down and awful in the early afternoon.  It all started right after saying goodbye to a good friend with whom we had a lovely lunch: suddenly the pressure dropped and the humidity reeeeeally set in, as if to say, "Why by Jove!  This is the SOUTHEASTERN United States!"

Herr Meow, who seemed oh-so-sleepy earlier in the day, was the embodiment of the chatty life of the party as we lurched forward toward Capitol Hill.  Placing him in his stroller and going for a walk only wore me down even more –damn you, cute strappy J. Crew flip-flops that offer no support whatsoever despite looking pretty cute and highlighting my orangey-red nailpolish!

Going to the park and having him play and walk around offered no relief either.  And then I started to doze off on one of the park's benches.

May I repeat that?  I.  Dozing off.  Benches.  Two-ish p.m.

I suddenly felt old and aggrieved by allergies and the complaints of those who can't even hold their own when the weather turns the least bit muggy and unfavorable.  I schlepped the kid home and forced us to have a nap. Meanwhile in my mind I kept pouting/thinking, "Why do I feel so awful and sick? Booohoooo!"

________

When Monsieur Meow arrived, complaining about the greater heat and humidity today, he also said something along the lines of, "…and of course, the hangover."

I stopped in my tracks.  OF COURSE, THE HANGOVER!!!!

I am not a dowdy, mumsy, boring person who gets sick in the heat and humidity after all!  I am a sometimes-dowdy, preternaturally-mumsy and 50/50 boring person who happened to drink sangría like it was her job last night.

Let me tell you: I have never felt so good about realizing I was fighting some major ethyl alcohol poisoning.

Maybe I'll drink to that, when I feel a little less bleary.

Pee Ess: Sorry, Edith Wharton.