I doze off during the Bruins game.
Luckily I am watching the game on television and not actually attending it at TD Garden. Seriously. By 9:30 p.m., I am battling fatigue so great that it knocks me on my ass. One late afternoon glass of wine has rendered me completely useless.
Dinner? Nah. That implies work. I'd either have to make it, heat it up, or go get it. None of those options seems appealing nor manageable. Cheese and crackers are manageable, plus they go with wine. That works for me.
Also, the house is hot. Really hot. And a bit humid. My hair, completely straight when I leave for work in the morning, starts to curl up like a terrier's coat. Everything in the house, including me, sweats. Too soon; truly, too soon. I hoped for 70's before it went right to "unbearably boiling."
No matter. The wine does its job. If I'm lucky, I'll sleep. I doubt it, but I'm willing to give it a try. After all, it has been a brutal week at work, and I've earned this snooze ... and wine. I earned that bad boy glass big time.
