After having a bit of a sore throat for a few days and doing the opposite of taking it easy on Friday night, I woke up on Saturday with an even sorer throat and no voice. Deciding to act like a remotely intelligent mammal, I made Saturday a quiet one. I skipped a BBQ with some friends, met some others in the evening for two glasses of red wine (which is basically cough syrup) and then went to dinner before heading home and going to bed early.
Sunday was heading in the same direction, until I headed out the door to pick up some food at the supermarket and ended up meeting a friend for breakfast. It seemed harmless enough at the time, but when one considers that I was meeting Juice, then it seems less than surprising that I found myself at a trashy bar in Kings Cross before noon ordering jugs of cheap beer.
If nothing else, I will congratulate myself on making it home before 7pm and getting to bed at a reasonable time. The same can't be said for Juice, unfortunately, who has no recollection of when or how he got home on Sunday night (or perhaps Monday morning) and didn't see the inside of his office until Tuesday.
In the meantime, my throat will clearly need a few extra days to heal. Shame about the drinks scheduled from Wednesday thru Saturday nights.