I poisoned myself yesterday afternoon, partaking in an overambitious pitcher of sangria concocted from strawberries, rosé wine, and basil-infused gin. “That looks huge,” said Lady V. But my eyes were bigger than my liver, and I responded, “Half of it is ice.” I should probably mention that I’m Asian and not a big drinker, thus you could set me on fire with a sip of wine spritzer. We had a delightful time downing the whole jug with a tapas lunch. The rest of the afternoon was lovely as well: I did a bit of productive shopping and cleaned my taekwondo dojang, where the wooden floors swam pleasantly under the vacuum. The headache began when I attended my son Max’s evening concert, but seemed to go away by the time I bid him and my ex adieu and came home to work. However, when I sat at my computer, the screen started shooting daggers into my eye sockets and I was suddenly suffering a spectacular hangover. Thankfully, Max was with his dad until Saturday, so that I didn’t have to make up excuses for my migraine and why I couldn’t come into the light.
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