The party is truly over.
7:10 a.m.
The third and last choir concert was a success, although more people were sick with this sore throat thing. When I�m 64 was pretty strange. My piece went well, except that the third note of the clock motive was still out of tune. The party afterwards is what it was all about though.
I picked up a 4-pack of those vodka lemonade drinks (unfortunately I had to get the cheapo ones from the supermarket since the SAQ was closed for the night) and I had one of those, then decided I wasn�t drunk enough, so my baritone gave me a beer, a blue-ribbon Pabst, which I had never had before, and which impressed me as being a working-man�s beer. It did the trick. I was fairly sloshed by the time Fannie sat down at the electric piano and we reprised the concert in Cat�s living room. I had originally planned on leaving around midnight, but since I�d had that second libation I was not sober enough to drive until 1 a.m. At that time I deked out through the crowd, taking Little Princess, her boyfriend and another friend with me, giving the latter two rides home and then depositing us in our little beds. We saw deer feeding by the side of the road, which is surely a sign that spring is here.
However, I hardly slept. My throat aches, I have a headache, and I kept singing the songs of the concert over in my mind. I finally got up before my alarm and took some extra-strength acetaminophen. Perhaps I�ll be able to get an hour or two of shut-eye after I send Buddy Boy off to school, before I head out to teach an 11:30 lesson.
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