Oooooffff...

I have a great talent while hung over. I can lay in bed for hours and tune out the drilling, jackhammering, and the fifty mexicans in my yard who are fixing the notorious basement flood at my house screaming "Mira" over and over. I'm sure many of the comments were "Look at that crack in the foundation!", "Look at the termites here!", "Look, how the hell can they allow people to live here?"

The play by play so far:
Woke up earlier to feed cats. Got a cup of OJ, surfed the net, went back to bed.
At 1 p.m. the man calls. I lie and say I wasn't still in bed, hesitate, then tell him the truth.
Reach for the large half of prosciutto bread that I bought Friday, wonder if the tiny bits of green mold spots will kill me....
Pout as I chuck the expensive bread in the garbage.
Go to the computer and hope surfing will magically erase my hunger.
Return to kitchen and hope preprepared food will magically appear on the table after the third or fourth search.
Return to the computer. Beg hunger to go away.
Find myself surfing Jamie Oliver's website (the cute chef)...
Get inspired.
Go to kitchen and throw together an omelette with leftover chicken and salsa.
Catch myself before throwing a full glass of OJ into the garbage can.
Declare myself a winner.
Good enough dammit.