There are two options when the world feels like it's exploding around you: throw a pity party and cry yourself to sleep, or call up your girlfriends and booze the night away. I choose the latter option. I call up Morgan and practically beg her to go out for drinks. Fortunately, her fiancé Mark is working late tonight, so she's more than willing to help me drown my frustrations in some whiskey. I give her only one condition: that we talk about neither work nor men all night.
I end up getting sloshed, of course.
I leave my car at the bar and take a cab home, and even then it's a miracle I make it up the two flights of stairs to my apartment. I fumble with my keys at the door, dropping them twice before I manage to get the damned thing unlocked.
Trying to get undressed is an adventure in a
