I know, right? Shocked me, too.
I was working on my (damn) thesis, and I was considering rescinding it from the university and saving it for posterity or fireplace starter, whichever happened first. Maybe I was at my thesis limit, like a tequila last-call.
Here's what happened: I made myself a perfectly fine (I know this to be true because I used the pre-made stuff in a bottle) margarita, drank half of it, then suddenly stopped. It seemed way, way too sweet, so I waited a few minutes and then I tried it again.
Same thing.
I waited a few days, waited until the tequila stench had left the area, and let the blender sit. All of this led up to, is leading up to, the thesis presentation. The presentation, which is sandwiched between two wonderfully brilliant researchers and lit majors, goes well. I'm on an academic high. We three presenters go out to Salem Beer Works for celebratory drinks and some food.
Bad mistake.
The withdrawal my body has been having from thesis-laced-tequila causes me to cringe at the first sip. Oh, the drink is fine. In fact, it's fantastic. But, in typical it's-not-you-it's-me fashion, I simply cannot drink the whole thing. I haven't eaten anything since the night before, and all I've had today is water. This margarita, which is essentially all liquor with an ice cube attached, is not going anywhere quickly.
Damn. I really have reached my tequila limit.
I'm going to miss you, Jose. Give me a couple of days to get over this malaise, and then I'm sure I'll be back knocking on your door, begging you to jump into my blender and into my glass. But for the sake of my sanity, please don't leave my liquor cabinet in search of another. After all, my thesis isn't completely done yet. It still needs two more signatures. You've been with me so far, Jose; stick with me right to the bitter end. I'd do it for you.
