I’ve decided to take a refund on my seven tickets to the opening night of Star Wars. Ben’s having a Christmas shindig at his place that night that I’d rather go to, and I could only find a couple takers for tickets anyway.
I worked late messing with the A/V rack at the junior high, and left when I got to a point where I needed a part.
Whiskey sour ’til bed.
I’d be a better man, better man, better man