After a bad night’s sleep – where dreams of falling from bridges only to land, inexplicably, on piles of glistening naked women had me tossing and turning in various ways – I dragged myself out of bed with the crystal clear realization of where I’d gone wrong. What had happened to mess-up my usually keen sense of judgment. I’d been in denial.
I threw off the t-shirt I was using as a nightie and stomped with determination into the bathroom. I started the shower and let the water temperature sort itself out while I went to check on my phone. I had plugged it in the moment I’d got home the night before and waited until it had been resurrected enough to send a text I’d fired off a couple – a few to Uncle Vic and then, after much thought, a wordy apology to Mark. Now, when I poked it awake there were a dozen or more messages waiting.