Or I may not.
But I'm wearing perfume. When I finished the work week (woohoo!) earlier this evening and opened the bread boxes in which I keep the main body of the perfume collection, Iris Taizo demanded that I wear it. I wasn't in an Iris Taizo mood at all, but it seemed so set on its purpose that I hesitated to contradict. So I'm wearing it right now, and a few hours later, it's just starting the transition from cynically bitter to gently sweet.
After that, Himself and I went out, and ate seaweed salad, and hazelnut prawns, and several other things, and, perhaps most importantly for the character of this post, drank lemon drops. Two of them. I did, that is. He drank other things.
I don't drink much. Not much at all. It turns out that two lemon drops, one of them consumed with not much more than a few soybeans to stand against them, are enough to make my brain feel as if it's been gently dislodged from my spinal cord and tossed into some sort of sweet, bobbing liquid.
I have been of the opinion for quite some time that someone should pass a law that all alcoholic beverages should be served with a cube of cheese, in order to give the consumer a fighting chance against the intoxicating effects. Or perhaps the customer should be required to consume the cube of cheese before being handed the glass--brandish the ID, eat the cheese, then imbibe. My current swimmy brain is now all the more convinced of the wisdom of this policy.
I was not offered any cheese. And I can assure you that soybeans are an insufficient shield against a determined lemon drop. But apparently I can still type. Though I may need to re-read this tomorrow to see if that's really true.
That is all.
Review Roundup: Is here.
Image: By Ranveig. Wikimedia Commons.