So after an extremely stressful day made not better by raging PMS, I came home, bought some wine, and am on my second glass. The first I drank while out in our park, alone, a red moon hanging low in a night sky. Gorgeous.
And now I'm halfway through my second glass, and all I want to do is call my favorite boys and hear SP make fun of me. Because I miss them.
SP is right: I am an ugly drunk.