I’m not a morning person.
That is an understatement like few others.
If we have cocktails in the evening I have to make sure the glasses are emptied of any melting ice and put in the sink. This is so I don’t grab one the next morning before coffee, blearily note that it is a glass and contains liquid, and proceed to wash down my vitamins with diluted vodka at 8 a.m.
That is a maneuver Husband has come to call AbFabbing.
I was concerned about this.
Then I thought to myself, “Fuck it. I’m a writer.”