Tomorrow is the Chick's birthday. I love that her birthday is just one in a long line of events . . . kinda like her personal mardi gras.
This year, her husband is throwing a bash. I'm going. There is going to be "dancing" . . . and I assume drinking . . . if she truly expects humans and monkeys to dance together.
And, I'll be undoing all that was done in "rehab" . . . frankly rehab is a tad overrated . . . unless being stuck in a small room with two hard of hearing people who didn't seem to understand that the other person was ALSO hard of hearing . . . and thus they yelled at each other for three straight days is suppose to make me grateful for the peace and quiet of my home.
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