"The trouble with unicorns" is that it sounds much better than "The trouble with drinking," which is the real reason I'm awake. Awake and wishing I had deployed better sense after drink #2. Ah yes, Psycho Suzi's -- home of the sweet, tasty multi-booze whatevers that come in cute carafes with cherries and little plastic monkeys on top. I should have brought my monkeys home with me -- there were three of them. Not only would they have perched atop my laptop screen and mocked me deservingly as I typed, but I could have sewn them down to something later on. Drat. But I guess I was too busy thinking about the bike trip home. A long trip, by normal reckoning, since I was being extra careful. And holding my skirt down with one hand, having forgotten to don my leggings before embarking. Which turned out to be not such a big deal, and more comfortable besides. Assuming I didn't offend anyone.
Three monkeys. Hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil.
The good news is that I had a great time. And got home before the sun set, in one piece; sort of a miracle considering all the construction and sealcoating going on between there and here. Loose gravel everywhere, signs and cones randomly blocking the areas adjacent to busy streets. I actually rode under one of those signs -- I'd done it sober, so I knew it was possible, though I was tempting fate a tiny bit. Had my helmet on, just in case.
So now, here I am, two cups of coffee three glasses of water two ibuprofen and a handful of snacks later, wishing I had kept it to two monkeys. From now on, this will be my measure of social-outing sensibility: how many monkeys. Something to keep in mind for next week, since I've convinced my church buddies to once again hold an all-staff meeting at Suzi's.