Unwanted Commentary

It might be my protestant background, but I always feel bad about the weekend if I don't accomplish a certain number of things, be they chores or errands that prepare me for the week ahead. Evidently doing a modicum of laundry on Sunday wasn't enough to satiate this bizarre subconscious desire and I can only postulate that failing to achieve level 44 has left me with this hole of unrequited accomplishment.

The feeling that I should be social when those opportunities arise led me to shirk off my WoW responsibilities on Saturday and go to some sort of party that co-worker Carmina had invited me to. The setup, as far as I can tell, was a 5k run for some charity that culminated in a party involving fajitas, margaritas and socializing. I had earlier in the day been some what uncertain of attending the function because I had not responded to the evite, I did not participate in the race and my liquid cash assets were adding up to considerably less than the suggested $10 donation. Carmina assured me not to worry about, so I didn't.

Now, I've never crashed a party before and I've always held myself up to a certain standard that when I attend a party I do not abuse the host's hospitality. But, on Sunday as my pounding, hung over head did it's best to do me in I realized that we had crossed certain boundaries. I say we because of my desire not to be fingered as a lone gunman. Carmina, Jose and I showed up at the event, we ate, we drank and we had a really good time. We staid way longer than any of the other more legitimate guests and I think it's fair to say that we got far drunker. We definitely took advantage of the situation and despite our reckless flippancy we still got a free t-shirt out of the deal. Good times.

As a night cap I drunk dialed X1 and she hastened over to my place, evidently the novelty of observing your inebriated ex-husband at 1:00 in the morning is an opportunity not to be missed. We chit chatted for awhile and then decided that it was such a lovely night that we should take a walk. We moved at quite a pace up and down Junius for some distance as I cajoled her to not be so scared to walk further South down that road. I also dared her to lead us down Gaston, but the allure of that proposal met with little success and to be honest there are limits to my own liquid courage. While being on Junius at 1:30 in the morning is laughably scary, the concept of roaming Gaston at that time takes on a certain terror.

The night ended as I walked X1 back to her place, feeling as I did that I owed her a "walk home" from some past lapse in my own judgment. I made a brief attempt to blog in the early morning hours, but the urge to vomit and pass out became to great. Fortunately there was no Technicolor spray and the entire world faded away after a resounding kurplawp on to the bed.