It's Five O'Clock Somewhere

I don't really like that song, but it's been kicking around in my head for a good 10 hours or so, ever since I willfully chose to drink two large cans of Guinness Stout at 3pm this afternoon, and then took a long nap nestled next to my child in a sweaty bed because our air conditioner is (again) on the fritz. My house looks like a family of traveling gypsies came through it. Only the traveling gyspies are my family, consisting of just me, my husband, and my two year old child. And we are as stationary as...well, a rock, right now.

Oh yeah, and my dogs are shitheads. They decided to unlock their cage during the night (okay, so it was me that just didn't latch it, but it's my story, it's my blog, I'm stickin' to it) and eat a poopy diaper that I had forgotten to put in the Diaper Genie that afternoon. Whoopsie.

So the house is a borderline health hazard, and I'm drinking in the middle of the afternoon and basically passing out with my kid. Can Child Protective Services be far behind? I mean, at high noon today, I was bawling my eyes out at the outer edge of the parking lot of the grocery chain down the street from my house. And I mean, bawling. Great, heaving, hitching sobs of pity me. My nose was running. I wiped my face with Taco Bell napkins (which suck for that, by the way -- Mc Donald's napkins are way better, but I don't eat McDonald's much anymore), and then hung out my door and splashed myself with lukewarm bottled water that I'd left in the car overnight. And drove home. Played with my daughter until naptime, sucked back the beer, and took a little neeper.

I woke up feeling pretty damn good. And I keep reminding myself that tomorrow is a new day; that Scarlett O'Hara might've been on to something.

Have I mentioned I'm premenstrual?!