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.