the drunks strike again

A. and I had taken a short hiatus from playing Risk, one of our favorite pastimes.  Since the move we have played twice.  The first time we just gave up half way through with no clear winner.  The second time I won by concession.  I had a long day yesterday so the beer consumed while playing Risk not only made me drunk, but rather tired.  I went to bed, apparently unannounced, much to A.’s dismay.

When I awoke this morning it was raining, which was quite pleasant.  I laid in bed for another half hour enjoying the calm and cool.  Finally it was time to head to the shower.  I knew she had made lunches for us, so I figured there would be some dishes to do.  But…

When I passed into the kitchen I beheld every dish, spatula, pot and pan we owned piled Burton-esquely in the sink.  I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the floor looked a shade darker than normal.  Had there been an oregano fight?  Was A. secretly cleaning and packing weed whilst I slept?  In order to cross the kitchen to the bathroom I first needed to sweep the floor.  To my bare feet it felt like walking on mulched leaves.

I was, at this point, rather curious about what the result of this havoc would be.  It sits calling my name in the break-room fridge as I type.  I will add another post later after it has been critiqued.


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