The story goes . . .
that Jon was supposed to leave at 11:30 . . .
from his company's Christmas party (or Holiday party--
though we all know what holiday they actually mean).
But he was asked to give a speech.
The punch line was that hopefully the company did well next year,
but if not, then they'd all be fired.
Then he drank some more. . . .
And when he was done, he went to his office to get his bike.
To walk it up the Westside Highway because he was too inebriated to ride it.
But that didn't happen.
(Good thing too!
What a dumb idea.)
Instead, I had a fitful night worrying about him.
And when he came home, he passed out in the bathtub.
And I had a fitful night and morning worrying about him.
And then when he was sound asleep in bed,
I yelled at him.
He remembered nothing.
And then I went to work.
And then I came home to a bouquet of flowers.
This was all like last year. Kind of.
Anyway, all is good unless this happens again next year.
In the meantime, I had a fun time deconstructing the dying bouquet into these smaller vases,
so that they don't die as quickly.
The other lilies actually bloomed!
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