Well, almost…

My vow to not drink for the rest of November died when I heard Nate got a job, and I felt a need to drink to that, but I only had one drink.

Granted, it was a screwdriver in a rather large brandy snifter from when a bunch of us went to The Dome when we were in Dallas for Elisa’s wedding, but whatever.

One drink in an entire month is not too bad. And I know I’m not going to drink anything the rest of the weekend…one drink around my mom’s family and they’re convinced you’re an alcoholic.

Which is odd, because they’re Irish. They should, by all ethnic stereotypes, be fucking plastered tomorrow. Alas, about the only alcohol I see this weekend will be a touch of cooking brandy.

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