Last night was sig-beer. SIG stands for Special Interest Group. Or signal. Either way, it's a bunch of nerds who gather monthly to drink beer and hang out. I've been going for fifteen years or so. Typically I have two or three beers. We go to the Brickskeller, which is a bar known for its extensive beer list. In the beginning I tried all sorts of beers. But eventually I settled on three beers that I really like, and now I usually order those. Yuengling Black and Tan, Yuengling Porter, and Magic Hat #9. Sometimes I order something different, but usually it's one of those three. The guys still order wacky beers so I do get to taste different things. I've been burned by too many cat piss flavored beers, though. I carefully examine expressions before I try a beer now. Mike, unfortunately, has a really good straight face.
But last night I wasn't drinking. I did sniff a few beers, and some smelled so good I'd wear them as perfume. There was one heavenly apple beer that made me swoon. I, however, stuck with ginger ale. (The waitress put a cherry in it for me.) I'm abstaining until I figure out why my liver or liver-adjacent areas hurt after I drink. Western medicine claims I'm fine. I'm checking in with a naturopath next. (Of course, a naturopath is liable to tell me I shouldn't drink anyway, but I hope they'll at least be willing and perhaps able to figure out why it's a problem.)
Point being, I feel like hell this morning. And I didn't have any alcohol. Sympathetic hangover? The natural course of things? I felt great yesterday. Perhaps the universe needs me to feel tired and grumpy today to even things out.
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