Ugh. Yesterday was a b-day surprise for one of Miguel’s friends. His wife had rented out a luxury suite at a ball game. And there was a Jimmy Buffet margarita maker there, and a nice man named Gary running it. And Gary and his little machine make one heck of a frosty and good drink. And I had about 4? 5? of them, with a couple of beers in between. And I was drunk.
So all my grand plans to get home after the game, do a little work, and bake some cupcakes went right in the crapper. We didn’t get home until 7 or so, and though I made a valiant effort, promising myself a quick nap and then up and at ‘em, it was a no go. I passed out on the couch for about an hour, had some carbs and water, hung out with the dog for 45 minutes or so, then took myself off to bed about 10, still buzzing.
I slept like crap, got up feeling like crap, weighed myself and felt even crappier, then stopped at McD’s on the way to work for a McMuffin and fully loaded iced coffee.
Today, of all days, at lunch I have to go the DMV, b/c my car registration expired yesterday. Miguel tried to do it Saturday, but needed something from the title office which was RIGHT NEXT DOOR, but was closed. Oh the hell.
After work, despite my billion pound weight gain, I will not be going to the gym; I have to go finish up yard work, bake cupcakes, clean the downstairs bathroom and kitchen, and mop the floor. Guest bath and beds are already done, thank god, and Miguel has promised to vacuum and dust.
This is going to be a long few days.