. . . you're drinking scotch at 1 p.m. on a weekday, you slept like a drowning rat in a barrel, you have to take a nap and go to the bank and then go out to dinner with Shelley.
Going out to dinner with Shelley is like, super- ultra-mega. She brooks no idiots. Cancelling at the last minute is definitely NOT an option. But her husband is a calming influence and you know that he is going to get you through the night. May even drive you home! (Just kidding, Shell! Please don't whip me with the pigeon feathers, not again!)
And play piano. That gets you through the day.
Hasta.
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