Monday, November 19, 2007

He Just Can’t Take Me Anywhere

Friday night, Hugh and I attended a charity function sponsored by my service club. We go every year and, every year until this one, I have abstained from drinking the wine.

Why would I abstain from the goodness that is the fermented juice of the crushed grape, you ask? Because, due to my job, I was considered a public figure and I just didn’t think it appropriate for a public figure to get her drunk on at a fundraiser for a children’s charity.

Of course, since I announced my intention to enter the private sector, all that has changed and I felt completely justified in having a small glass of wine at the event.

This became two small glasses…

…this became a rather large glass…

…followed by another rather large glass…

…and so on.

It was very good wine and, I’m fairly certain that I had a good time. I do remember having a delightful conversation with a young couple for whom Hugh had ordered kitchen cabinets a while back. It was a lengthy conversation, I am told. Also, if one didn’t know better, they might assume that I had a string hanging from my back and my name was Miss Chatty. But, you can call me Cathy.

I didn’t care. I was having fun and, if the cost of that fun included Hugh getting a great deal of amusement at my expense, well, it was a price I was willing to pay. Because, as I said, it was very good wine.

On the other hand, the part where I blatantly stalked a woman around the event simply because I knew that I knew her and could not for the life of me place her-a fact that irritated me to the point of insanity- may have been slightly over the top.

I'm sure you'll be relieved to know that I was eventually able to identify her as a teller at the post office where I pick up my business mail. You'll also be relived to know that I’m pretty sure she didn’t recognize me so my cover as an upstanding public figure remains intact.

Despite the very good wine.

How good? Good enough for me to not have a hangover at all the next day even though I passed out fell asleep immediately upon returning home from the event (I meant to sleep in my sweat bottoms, honestly). In fact, I felt so good on Saturday; I wrangled all five huge boxes of my Christmas village pieces down from the attic and set the village up in record time.

I also cleaned the house, shopped for groceries, entertained the Man-Cub while The Girl was away at a sleep-over and provided sparkling conversation at dinner. In short, I should drink very good wine more often.

And, um, we’ll just forget about that unfortunate stalking incident, mkay?

<---------Not drunk. Not drunk at all.