Today, whilst engaged in a steamy dream about Chris Martin (this admission embarrasses my subconscious mind), I heard the voice of my father. It said, ‘Do you want your margarita frozen or over ice?’
This roused me from my unconscious state, and I scrambled for my mobile to see the time. It turned out to be noon. The day of week appeared to be Monday.
“Uhhh…Dad, it’s Monday?” I responded,
to which my dear father said, ‘You know, you’re right – over ice it is!’
It turns out that my father has adjusted his frat-boy-o-meter in response to my mum being away.
So I am a bit tipsy, and simply must continue drinking – because if college taught us anything, it is that drinking in the morning will make you pass out before six if you don’t continue drinking at a rapid pace.
On the other hand, I fear for myself in a few weeks – when I’ll have to have coffee for my liquid lunch instead of tequila. :(