I lean back, my eyes closed against the light, a warm orange glow on the backs of my eyelids, the cold metal of the Tecate can perspiring in my hand as the sound of gently lapping water just reaches my ears.
Wait, that’s the floor drain backing up and flooding the dish room again. Shit. At least the Tecate is real.
It is day nine of Hell Week and it is starting to show. A couple of mornings ago I sat on the couch drooling and slurring my speech, wondering if I’d had a mild stroke, then Danny kindly pointed out that I still had my toothbrush in my mouth. I’m not sure that’s better.
Saturday morning I sent a text to Brett to ask how the weekend had gone at Café Z. I was sure it was Sunday afternoon.
I hope everyone is having a good 2010 so far, though I've got to say that I feel ripped off. Where is my flying car? My vacation on the moon? And the robot wives? Well, they're here and it turns out that they're just kinda creepy.