Last night was St. Patricks day. After a boring day at work, Taylor and I stopped at the local licor store, where we got a bottle of whiskey and two cigars for Taylor and Jasons enjoyment. We got to their house, and Taylor and Jason went outside, joy and I stayed inside, catching up, talking about babies, looking at videos. About an hour later, the guys stumbled in...well Jason did. Taylor seemed fine. The bottle was pretty much gone. I will omit some details of that night, only to be disclosed to joys children when they are old enough to understand that what joy and I did, was done thinking that Taylor was as sober as he said he was. The night ended with Jason throwing up and Taylor saying..."carina. If you would be so kind. I really think I need to go home. Like soon."
Well we drove home. I gave my little baby (taylor) some warm banana bread and we went to bed. He rambled on about how happy I make him and how tired he was. I said go to sleep sweety, and within minutes he was out. I laid there, awake. (it takes me a good hour to fall asleep). And all of a sudden Taylor almost knee'd me in the belly. I dodged it with my hand and decided to roll over with my back facing him, and the WHACK! He slapped me in the face!!! I sat up, yelled "TAYLOR!" And shoved him quite hard, and there he lay, peacefully snoring like nothing happened...the little brat. t