While picking up dropped cherries I got rewarded with an adrenaline kick: Some drunken tiny beastie had obviously felt bothered by my right forefinger and stung. Which is why the white bucket remained half empty.
Ach, thinking of bothering... Although certainly not drunk, I am currently beerily mellowed, so although there are things I could do, I just can't be "bothered" (other than to play around with words, a little, tasting the hop within my spittle). A repose of untroubled thoughtfulness would be nice, for us both. Sometimes as I drift towards nightly peacefulness I do fear wakening though. Goodnight. (It has been a difficult few days, but difficulties can pass). It's a strange old business, this game we call life.
I would suggest a more general and shorter version of your advice: "Never bother a drunk"
ReplyDeleteAh, this does not lack of poignant accuracy, thanks.
DeleteI'll tell that beastie!
Ach, thinking of bothering... Although certainly not drunk, I am currently beerily mellowed, so although there are things I could do, I just can't be "bothered" (other than to play around with words, a little, tasting the hop within my spittle). A repose of untroubled thoughtfulness would be nice, for us both. Sometimes as I drift towards nightly peacefulness I do fear wakening though. Goodnight. (It has been a difficult few days, but difficulties can pass). It's a strange old business, this game we call life.
DeleteI like that thought: untroubled thoughtfulness. May it come upon both you and me.
DeleteThe peace of the night!