Ethan
I don’t remember leaving the bar last night, but somehow I managed to get home and into bed.
Of course, I don’t need to remember to feel the horrible after effects of my foolish behavior. My beta, Matthew, tried to convince me to leave when I started feeling the effects of pouring half a bottle of scotch into an oversized tumbler and calling it a ‘little drink’, but I wasn’t in the mood to listen. One little drink became three, and before long I succeeded in reaching blissful oblivion – though it doesn’t feel even a little bit blissful now. Part of me feels ashamed of setting such a horrible example for my pups, but the other part simply reminds me that I’m not going to have pups for much longer.
Glancing at the clock, I can see it’s already 9am, which means I’m officially late
