I wanted to write yesterday. I thought about it several times, but then my hangover would hit me over the head with a 2x4, and I had to lie down.

I still don't know my drinking limit. You would think at 31 years old, I would have a clue. I guess that's what being good in school will get you. I didn't have those years of puking and passing out to be my guide in later life. I still haven't puked, but I don't think that's something to brag about anymore. I really wish I had. Maybe then I wouldn't have wakened yesterday morning still buzzing. Maybe then I would have been able to get out of bed before noon. I'm never doing that again. No. Really. I'm serious this time.

While I was wallowing in misery, I watched my house deteriorate before my hazy eyes. It went from "messy" to "fucking dump" in a matter of hours. Not that it hasn't been worse, but we are out of spoons and bowls, and I can't see my coffee table, and I need to rake my carpet for all the leaves that are on it.

I had a hell of a lot of fun Saturday night though. Most of the fun was after we left my in-laws'. As expected, I rather enjoyed myself while there. J's aunt brought Captain Morgan, and I have a thing for him. That's where it all began. And I got loud and happy and stupid. I drink so seldom that not only do I not know when to say when, but I am an awfully cheap drunk. The good thing is I remember everything from there, but I can't say the same for when I got home. I'm sure I was quite entertaining for J. Hell, I know I was. I remember enough to know he's not going to be forgetting that night anytime soon.

My father-in-law called the next morning before I was able to crawl out of bed. j answered for me and was so kind to not get me up. He thought I was just sick, but I think he has an inkling. I feel another talk is probably in order soon. I suppose the responsible thing to do would be not to drink and not to have anything to explain. But the other side of me says this is life, and it's better he learn than be na�ve like me. I just don't know.

I do know I love J. He took care of me yesterday and took care of dinner and took care of the kids. It might not have kept the house from going to shit, but at least I wasn't dragging my aching self around trying to put peanut butter on bread and making an even bigger mess of things. He did clean up a little too, so I don't have quite as big a mess to deal with today. I only wonder what ammunition he now has stacked against me. I thought I remembered more from that night than I did, like telling him I really wanted to see Titan A.E. I don't remember that, and I really don't care to see that movie, but I guess my drunk self does. I vaguely remember telling him how I learned everything about sex through trial and error because I really wasn't told anything as a child outside of the movie in 6th grade. My sex education was from a movie, which I hardly remembered by the time I had sex. All that, and he still loves me. What a guy!

At least I wasn't eating chicken in the bathtub like when I got drunk on our beach vacation. Besides the time I ended up under our computer desk, that is the worst drunk I've ever had. I did learn a very important lesson from that time though. Stay far, far away from the ocean when you've had too much to drink. But if you are going to drown, be drunk when you do it. You hardly taste the salt water, and it's pretty cool being underwater then.

My poor liver. At least it doesn't get hit too often.