A couple of definitions for you:
1) day drinking: what it sounds like; drinking before 5 PM, usually alone
2) cocktail hour: what wives of executives do; any time of day is acceptable
So it was hot in San Diego today. Damn hot. Like 90 degrees. And it’s not even May. (Note: this is not bitching. It’s “scene setting.”) Late in the afternoon, let’s say 4-ish, I remembered a bottle of white wine I’d stuck in the fridge a few weeks ago and never opened. Now, I ask you: is there anything more perfect on a hot day than super cold white wine? (Sit down, redneck. Nobody jumped your tractor.) So I opened it. And it was so damned refreshing that I’d killed the whole bottle two hours later when Chaos Boy & I sat down to dinner. I was so “refreshed,” in fact, that I had to go up and take a little (over an hour!) nap after I ate. I was so “refreshed” that I just left my plate of half-eaten food on the table. I was so “refreshed” that I slept through the entire “Spring Awakening” soundtrack playing on my phone.
When I did wake up and realize I’d better at least go put the leftover food away I found that the amazing hero, Chaos Boy, had already done it for me. Not wanting to be be outshone I immediately started loading the dishwasher. Just as I was finishing up:
CB: You didn’t have to do the dishes.
DP: I didn’t want you doing them. That’s not fair.
CB: Well, life’s not fair.
DP: Wait. You’re a white man in America. Are you sure life’s not fair?
Hehehe. I blame Cocktail Hour. 😉