Getting old sucks. I used to be able to go out until 4:00 am, get an hour or two of sleep and still make it to the Bagel Baron for my 7:00 am shift, which would be spent cheerfully scooping out the insides of bagels for delightful and appreciative SUNY Albany students.
But now if I have more than two (or twenty) beers I have to spend the entire next day lying in bed, which is how I find myself right now, flat on my back, computer on my stomach, two-liter bottle of water by my side, praying for death.
The only thing that will save me is a chicken salad sandwich from Lenny's, but Lenny's might as well be in Westchester right now. They deliver, but I don't know where the phone is, or the menu, and it's really hot in here... and ugh.
No more sangria for me.
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My horoscope in the Post says I will be cranky tonight. Who says there's nothing to astrology!
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