Does This Make Me Intolerant?

"Why don't you get drunk for my amusement?"

There are some questions you don't have to ask me twice.

Since we first found out my wife was expecting, our per capita alcohol consumption has plummeted. I'm not one for hyperbole, so I can't sit here and say that shortly after we began teetotaling our local liquor store went bankrupt, but sometime in February my mom got a call from the shop's proprietor wondering where a donation could be made in our memorial.

But seriously, between her pregnancy, our budget, and my newfound respect for my general health, my drinking binges are few and far between. What was once a nightly activity has been reduced to a random few social occasions. On the whole, this is a very healthy development for everyone, with one minor drawback. My alcohol tolerance, meticulously crafted and enhanced over the past decade, has fallen farther than Kevin Costner's career.

So when my wife, randomly, requests that I have a few drinks at home last night and I happily oblige, I really shouldn't be surprised how quickly I can get drunk, suddenly decide it's time to pass out, and wonderful the early morning sun can be when you are hungover.

I had taken to waking up early on weekend mornings, sometimes even going for a run before settling in to start my day. But not this morning. I arose in that strangely familiar head-pounding-fog today. Yipee. That is one old friend that I haven't missed.