Somehow Labor Day spilled into Tuesday as well. I had just finished work and opened a beer when the Boomers asked if I wanted to go to Tap Inn with them, grab some drinks and grub. Since money’s tight I bowed out but Glenn (my PI working on finding you) offered to pay my tab. We had a rip-roaring time. Steve was so trashed, he fell over the short wall separating the patio from where golf carts park.
No judgment there—after returning to the space (our covered smoking area where we all congregate and commiserate) and a couple more beers and a wicked dab—I ended up tossing the Reuben and fries I’d eaten. Of course I called in sick this morning.
As I said, it all started with Labor Day. Our little community organized a brunch with waffles, eggs, sausages, bacon, hash browns, Danishes, and of course, mimosas and Bloody Marys. I was supposed to be in Phoenix but cancelled at the last moment, contributed all the Bloody Mary ingredients sans vodka (there was plenty of that already). In the midst of the feast, Boomer drama abounded.
There are some funny stories regarding the last few days but I’m exhausted from the excess I indulged in. I’ll fill you in more but for the moment, I really need to sleep.