It's kind of otherworldly being high and in a room with someone who's puking drunk. The violence and the agony seem so senseless and avoidable.
My wife is something of a drinker. She's not a plodding sort who bathes in the juices of unclarity. She drinks among friends mostly, sipping her Newcastle like she's checking the bouquet.
But once in a while, she ties one on. She guzzles, burps, cusses, hiccups and generally does things I wouldn't expect from a prison guard, much less a school teacher.
I remember one time she took me back to our old college apartment while we were in town for a friend's wedding, as a romantic gesture, only to end up barfing in the small building's backyard.
I like her drinking. It keeps me sane and it keeps her human. My wife has few vices, even fewer faults. I wouldn't count this among them.