Oops. One dinner and four hours later, I'm feeling rather silly.
Don't misunderstand: still irate, wronged and generally discontented.
But silly. Do forgive the first-ever dropping of the mother of all curse words on CSS. I blame the heat of the moment. Or the Becherovka. Whatever. (Insert long explanation here to relatives in which I try desperately to convince them that I really don't drink more than...wow...actually, I can't admit how seldom I drink. It's downright shameful, according to my hick root standards. Clearly, I am not cut out for the Faulkner and Hemingway Model of Writing Life.)
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