I woke up today with a hangover that would have killed a moose. This isn't necessarily a bad thing.
I am not quite a woman of faith, but I am a firm believer in the therapeutic value of a bender. I don’t mean a quick pint after work, or a glass of wine with dinner, which health experts now blandly advise are good for us. No, I mean the kind of drinking you do when you mean to get blind drunk, and when nothing short of it will do.
This is the kind of drinking Arit and I did last night, after a perfectly civilized dinner that was accompanied by a perfectly civilized bottle of red wine. When the bottle was empty, I remembered that I had another squirreled away under the sink, which I had intended to drink after my synthesis paper defense. Since I never did get around to celebrating, I suggested to Arit that we open it, and she enthusiastically agreed. Soon afterwards, we were both thoroughly soused, and although I won’t presume to speak for her, my God, I needed to be.
Of course, the aforementioned health experts will disapprove, as they do of virtually all of the things that we humans get up to when we need to lose ourselves for a while. What they fail to understand is that we require moments of catharsis in our lives as much as food or shelter, and there is nothing even remotely cathartic about moderation. It’s also not very much fun, but that’s another rant entirely.
So, to wine, catharses, and dead moose. Je ne regrette rien.