Flunked Sobriety on Wednesday Night | Down 23 Pounds, 43 to Go
It went like this.
I’m standing on the rear deck of the upscale Boston Harbor Hotel.
The equation becomes: Sun. Ocean. Breeze. Vibe.
1 + 1 + 1 +1 = 4 glasses of wine
It was inevitable, no?
Chilled Sav Blanc.
On. The. Sea.
The wine tasted marvelous, smashing.
The next morning?
I had a hangover that could tame a boar and it was definitely a no wake zone.
Perspective a few days later:
I’m fine with the wine intake. I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever allow myself to enjoy a cocktail(s) again. If I’d be able to indulge in the stuff one night and not the next six nights.
And I do want the cocktail every so often.
I’ve just got to keep the intake in moderation, in perspective.
Just back now from a 12.2-mile ride down to EMC in Hopkinton and back. A trial of sorts. 1:24 hours down; 1:10 hours back. My quads are screaming.
The euphoria should be hitting in a hour or two.
I’ll be high in the aftermath of busting my butt.
Perhaps, a good time to take Sabrina for a walk.
She complements my cycling outfit divinely.