Last night turned out to be a bit of a party, seemingly in spite of my warning to Dick as we set out for the evening that it was not likely to be one of superlative partyness. The grad student party we went to was broken up by the Boston 5-O when it was hardly midnight. After the last people left the apartment, said cops were seen laughing heartily, no doubt at the notion that they had busted up a tame get-together of legally drinking adults.
We headed to a neighborhood bar and drank there until we forgot to wonder what time it was. Last call was signaled by a sudden vapor cloud of ammonia filling the entire place. It was noxious, and a very effective method of clearing an establishment quickly. I don't think we'll be going back there soon.
Then we somehow ended up at a fellow student's apartment, drinking more and having drunk conversations about Obama, the superiority of plastics of 30 years ago, and baseball. We staggered into our apartment at 4 a.m., and the cats gave us the "you've been drinking, haven't you?" look.
This morning I made biscuits and cheese grits to put together all of the parts that became unstuck from the alcohol. Yum.
