It’s been a rough summer. Following a dreadful winter, the worst I can recall, I was hoping for a hot, beautiful summer this year, but it never arrived. Instead, we got rain, unseasonably cool temperatures and clouds, clouds, clouds.
And then came Labour Day. Nature being as perverse as it is, the weather since the unofficial start of fall has been more summery and beautiful than was any of the time in July and August. So yesterday, rather than working as I should have been, my wife and I decided to make a lazy Sunday out of a warm and sunny day, beginning around mid-afternoon.
I went out and bought some cheese, olives, crackers and other assorted victuals and then gathered together what we would need to enjoy our snacking repast on our condo building’s common outdoor area. We then repaired to the third floor with our food and some wine, all of which we enjoyed in the sun until a swarm of wasps eventually chased us back upstairs.
We continued our idyll on our balcony, switching from wine to gin and tonics, of which I had two over the course of an hour and a half or so. I then pulled together some more food, since hunger had once more reared its head following the sunset, and opened a beer as my final drink of the night.
Around 9:00 or so, I switched to carbonated water, having tallied a drink total of two and a bit glasses of wine, two G&Ts and one beer over the course of about six hours. Which meant that, according to most of the ‘expert’ definitions bandied about in the media these days, I had been binge drinking.
Oh, what an exceedingly pleasant “binge” it was…