Alex and I have had a third roommate living in our Dome for the majority of this year. Hw moved out on Monday, coincidentally the night I decided to finish my bottle of Bushmill’s in devotion to what has been a six day marathon drinking fest. I am now completely out of hard liquour, so it’s back to wine if my marathon is to continue. FYI.
Anyway, when my sister came home last night, she had this to relate about the previous evening:
She and Third Roommate were loading the car with Third Roommate’s final load. Alex was going to drive him to his new house and then return home. Apparently, and I, of course, don’t remember any of this, he repeatedly attempted to engage me in conversation. But I was aware of nothing but the level of whiskey in my glass and my dwindling ice supply. He would say something to me, and I would wander to the freezer to refill my glass. He tried to say goodbye and I was too involved in the motion of the ice cubes to respond.
“Hey Susie…” I wander to the freezer.
“So…I’ll see you sometime!” I turn to my computer.
“Okay, then, I’m taking off now…” Where’s that last ice cube tray? Why is the bottle so low?! What’s the Guster up to?
And that, my dears, is awesome.
This post should have been titled “I am an asshole.”