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drinking with lightweights

the journal of Michael Werneburg

twenty-seven years and one million words

It's a good thing I got my apartment sorted out yesterday: I had a headache all morning today.

It was still thumping away as I got on the plane. I guess the celebratory Irish Whisky from last night wasn't such a hot idea.

The weather was ridiculous when I got back to Toronto, of course. Jetslow managed to delay the flight a good hour and change, and then we arrived in a blinding blizzard. At least it was honest snow, and not that mixed bag of cold hell coming from the sky in Halifax on Monday.

Charlie flew in from Halifax three hours later, and he and I and mum and Chako and Tracey went to a little pub in our neighbourhood to tell one another "Merry Xmas". It was good.

Chako's a real lightweight, as one might guess from a tiny Japanese girl. Two drinks and she was barely able to stand.