I Fell Off

I fell off the wagon. Oh, you didn’t know I was on the wagon? Well, I was. And now I’m not.

You see, I had another one of those St. Patrick’s Days. This time I actually made it home and even got a few hours of sleep before the purging began, but still, not one of my finer moments.

The following day, I decided to give up drinking for a while. Seven weeks, to be exact—I thought I could try going from the day after St. Pat’s until Cinco de Mayo without a drop.

I lasted two weeks. But, I think I had a pretty good reason for my fall: it’s Opening Day. And what goes better with the return of baseball than a few cold beers—especially when your boss gives everyone in the company the OK to leave work for the afternoon to watch the Cubs game at a local bar? (Yes, I do work at the coolest place ever.)

So, the wagon and I, we had a nice little run. But it was time to head our separate ways. Maybe we’ll get back together sometime, like when I become one of those breeders. But for now, Hello booze.