Eight or Nine

Eight or Nine. That's the number of beers (MGD) I've had today. I lost count, because I've been drinking since ten this morning. I'm not buzzed though. Not in the least. I'd like to keep drinking until I am, but I know I wont. There were thirteen beers in the house at 5pm, and if they're all gone tomorrow morning, I know I'll look like a drunk. Maybe I could just drink two more, really quickly. Then again, maybe I'll drink the rest. Who the fuck knows. Eight or Nine. That's the number of cigarettes I've had today. Switching off between Pall Malls and American Spirits, depending on how many minutes I could spare for being outside. Chances are, I'll have two more, really fast, before bed. They won't be gone tomorrow morning. There will just be less of them. It's always nice to wake up and have some nicotene. Although, it's even nicer to have caffeine, also. Eight or Nine. That's the number of times I've yelled at my kids today. Nate ruined puzzle which Garrett was building. Garrett tackled his brother and made him cry when he was supposed to be picking up his room. Nate got out of bed, again, during nap time. Nate touched the Cuisinart. Garrett wouldn't walk up a hill. The list goes on. I yelled relatively little, truth be told. Eight or Nine. That's the number of the day.