January 11th, 2004


A bad evening.

I've spent all afternoon and evening pissing off scarlatti. Or hurting her, one way or another.

And I've polished off most of a half-bottle of Amaretto.

I suspect these two things are related.

Sorry to her, many times over. I can't get anything right today.
And if you've been part of the fallout, then sorry to you too.

I shouldn't drink when I'm in the house alone: it's a bad idea.
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