Today was really, really rough, but I think I had enough fun last night to make today's pain worth it. I need to stop having fun immediately, though, if I'm going to finish my book in time for my deadline - I can't keep going out hard at night if it means I miss my prime writing time in the mornings. Or rather, I can't do that for the next three weeks - then it's game on again.
So today was mostly an exercise in paying for last night's sins. Not that I actually sinned...although I did drink a lot of cheap wine and follow it all with an old fashioned, which probably is a sin, and I should have known better. But the variety of things I did last night was quite entertaining. To fill in some blanks, I went to Connecticut Yankee briefly to watch some Super Tuesday results. Then I had dinner with the original Jen Lui at Frances - I've wanted to go there for ages, and we made the reservation a month ago. Frances is owned by the same chef who has Octavia, which is much closer to me and while I like a lot. So perhaps Frances was a little overhyped for me - I'd say everything was consistently good, but I wasn't wowed by all of it. However, the chickpea fritters, which were the first thing we had, were fucking delicious.
So Jen and I caught up for a couple of hours, which was delightful. Then I walked her to the 16th and Mission BART so she wouldn't die alone if someone stabbed her. Spoiler: no one stabbed us, but some dude touched my arm and asked if I wanted to hear a secret (answer: no, I didn't want to hear a secret). Then I walked over to Rite Spot, which is home of an occasional Beatles karaoke night. I was the first to arrive, so I drank some wine and befriended the bartender, as is my wont.
But other people showed up shortly thereafter - Katrina organized it, and she showed up with Jamie in tow, and then John and Sheila arrived, and Vidya brought some friend of hers named Sri. So we commandeered a table and hung out for a couple of hours (which is where I poured cheap wine on top of the nice wine I'd had at Frances), and it was all super fun and ridiculous (and it became clear to me I really don't know that many Beatles songs). By 11pm, the karaoke was over, and everyone else left, but John and I ended up walking down the street to another bar (Homestead, I think), where I had an old fashioned and he drank all my water so he could sober up and drive me home. This seemed like a good trade at the time, although I probably would have felt a lot better this morning if I'd had more water and less whisky...but it was really fun, so #noregrets.
But I got home at two and promptly fell asleep on the couch, and I only blogged at four a.m. because people tend to think I'm dead if I don't blog. Then I crawled into bed and slept until 8:30, which was not enough, but it was the best I could do. I then spent the morning drinking coffee and water and working in bed - I had stuff that I really had to get done this morning, but I couldn't bear the thought of getting out of bed, so this was a good compromise.
By noon I knew there was only one thing that could save me, so I stumbled down to the marina and got Tony to make me some huevos rancheros, which went a long way toward restoring my health and wellbeing. Then I came home and took a nap, which mostly finished the recovery. And then I spent the rest of the afternoon/evening doing a variety of crucial but boring tasks, since I have enough brain power to get through emails and bills and paperwork and scheduling, but not enough to write a sex scene. Tomorrow is soon enough for that, I guess.
And now I think I'm going to crawl into bed with a book and read until I fall asleep....and hit the writing hard tomorrow, when my head is clear and my schedule is even clearer. Expect a hermit weekend - nay, *demand* a hermit weekend, since neither my deadline nor my liver will be happy if I keep repeating the weekends I've had recently. Goodnight!
So today was mostly an exercise in paying for last night's sins. Not that I actually sinned...although I did drink a lot of cheap wine and follow it all with an old fashioned, which probably is a sin, and I should have known better. But the variety of things I did last night was quite entertaining. To fill in some blanks, I went to Connecticut Yankee briefly to watch some Super Tuesday results. Then I had dinner with the original Jen Lui at Frances - I've wanted to go there for ages, and we made the reservation a month ago. Frances is owned by the same chef who has Octavia, which is much closer to me and while I like a lot. So perhaps Frances was a little overhyped for me - I'd say everything was consistently good, but I wasn't wowed by all of it. However, the chickpea fritters, which were the first thing we had, were fucking delicious.
So Jen and I caught up for a couple of hours, which was delightful. Then I walked her to the 16th and Mission BART so she wouldn't die alone if someone stabbed her. Spoiler: no one stabbed us, but some dude touched my arm and asked if I wanted to hear a secret (answer: no, I didn't want to hear a secret). Then I walked over to Rite Spot, which is home of an occasional Beatles karaoke night. I was the first to arrive, so I drank some wine and befriended the bartender, as is my wont.
But other people showed up shortly thereafter - Katrina organized it, and she showed up with Jamie in tow, and then John and Sheila arrived, and Vidya brought some friend of hers named Sri. So we commandeered a table and hung out for a couple of hours (which is where I poured cheap wine on top of the nice wine I'd had at Frances), and it was all super fun and ridiculous (and it became clear to me I really don't know that many Beatles songs). By 11pm, the karaoke was over, and everyone else left, but John and I ended up walking down the street to another bar (Homestead, I think), where I had an old fashioned and he drank all my water so he could sober up and drive me home. This seemed like a good trade at the time, although I probably would have felt a lot better this morning if I'd had more water and less whisky...but it was really fun, so #noregrets.
But I got home at two and promptly fell asleep on the couch, and I only blogged at four a.m. because people tend to think I'm dead if I don't blog. Then I crawled into bed and slept until 8:30, which was not enough, but it was the best I could do. I then spent the morning drinking coffee and water and working in bed - I had stuff that I really had to get done this morning, but I couldn't bear the thought of getting out of bed, so this was a good compromise.
By noon I knew there was only one thing that could save me, so I stumbled down to the marina and got Tony to make me some huevos rancheros, which went a long way toward restoring my health and wellbeing. Then I came home and took a nap, which mostly finished the recovery. And then I spent the rest of the afternoon/evening doing a variety of crucial but boring tasks, since I have enough brain power to get through emails and bills and paperwork and scheduling, but not enough to write a sex scene. Tomorrow is soon enough for that, I guess.
And now I think I'm going to crawl into bed with a book and read until I fall asleep....and hit the writing hard tomorrow, when my head is clear and my schedule is even clearer. Expect a hermit weekend - nay, *demand* a hermit weekend, since neither my deadline nor my liver will be happy if I keep repeating the weekends I've had recently. Goodnight!
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