My wife had her farewell dinner from her place of employment last night. She was taken to a Mexican joint with 17 others. I gather they had a heck of a time. Her boss called me at just after 9 to suggest it was time for me to come to whisk my wife home. I gather that the timing of that call coincided with the decision to play quarters. With tequilla.

Ouch.

The wife is feeling a bit fragile this morning.

I am, too, but for different reasons. I have to stop, and I mean it, stop playing squash with people 15 years younger than I am. It is going to kill me. I played four games this morning. I think my arm is going to fall off and when it does, it will have my right knee to keep it company.

Posted by: Random Penseur at 10:32 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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