Last week I had a visitor. Not so much a visitor as a walking, talking reminder that I’m an ass. But that’s not really the point. She got here wednesday, and on thursday we were having a goodbye party for one of the folks at work. We went out for Dim Sum. And, since it was the night after my friend arrived, I went with a mild hangover. Nothing too big, just a little fuzziness around the edges. I’ve certainly had worse and worked straight through them.
We’re sitting at the Dim Sum lunch, and I swear to heaven, the first thing to come out is a plate full of jellied chicken’s feet. I was super excited; I love trying ridiculously adventurous food like that. But for a fraction of a second, a horrible, paralyzing fear went through my brain that my boss knew I was hungover and was trying to provoke me into revealing it.
Nobody outgrosses me, hangover or no hangover. I’m like a handsome Andrew Zimmern.