What was a fleeting thought in the afternoon yesterday, became my strategy; that is, I decided to do all my drinking by 6 p.m., as this is an exceedingly busy week for me at work and I needed to be well-rested when I showed up today.
This was no small task. Since I refilled my CO2 tank a couple of weeks ago, I decided to stop hauling the heavy beast back and forth from home to work and back each day. I’ve been toting growlers instead. And the day before yesterday I thought I had more on hand at the house than I did, and left myself lacking my new 7 a.m. breakfast beer (since I’ve decided to bump up to five beers every day). I arrived at work and poured myself a glass of morning sunshine, but didn’t have time to finish it–I had back-to back appointments which ruined my life until nearly 11 a.m. I punched back the dregs of beer number one when I hit my desk and found myself woefully behind. To finish by 6 p.m. and stay solid for work took effort.
I am a champion, however, and this goal was defeated like Bill Buckner in the 1986 World Series.
Weary, I snagged myself a two-hour nap, relaxed with my champion offspring while watching a movie, and then retired to my sleeping chamber with my champion wife. Parched, I took two sips of water between 6 p.m. and 10 p.m. Somehow, I had to use the facilities at 12:23 a.m. and again at 3:30 a.m., but those were welcome disruptions following my recent trend of four pees per night.
I awoke refreshed, pounded a tall glass of water and poured myself the breakfast of champions. Because that’s what I do now.