Grounded

After 3 continuous weekends of enjoying the great city of Chicago (and it's various late night beverage establishments) this weekend I'm laying down the law, as it were. For the next several days: no pub-crawling, bar-hopping, drive-throughing or any other activity that lays bare my sometimes questionable judgement. In other words -- no fun, just philosophy.

I think it's only fair. After all, too much fun makes for a very bad thesis. Plus, next weekend is the Super Bowl, in which the Bears are playing, and who am I to stay in when the whole dang city is partying?

Call it forethought, call it self-discipline. Call it good for my liver.

Detox. Let's call it detox.

Whatever you call it, you must admit, when a girl does nothing for all of her teenage or college years (nothing worth mentioning, anyway) to merit a grounding, the fact that she becomes debaucherous and delinquent in her old age is really pretty commendable.

So now I'm commended for not losing my edge while I simultaneously misplace my glasses and complain about inexplicable aches and pains (I did both these things in the past 12 hours, btw).

Commended and grounded.