This morning, Steven was finally able to sleep in a little. It’s Sunday so he has a day off! On the seventh day, even God took a breather. I know Steven’s not God. But I sure as hell hates when he acts like one.

Anyway, I’m already up because when I have too much Chardonnay I can never sleep late. We had a bit of rowdy night last night. But we always have fun when Laura’s around. Right, Laura came over for dinner. I called Laura and told her Steven’s at work again and thought we’d have some GQT (girl quality time), since lately, we haven’t actually seen each other. It’s hard with her living in the city. Anyway, I made dinner, spicy jerk chicken. It’s all about marinating the meat for hours and then it’s “hot hot hot.” Talk about sexy hot when you kiss a bite of chicken into your hubby’s mouth! I really want to go back to Jamaica and have the real thing again. (And I’m not just talking about the jerk chicken, jah mon!) Sorry. Back to the chicken. He – I mean, Steven, not the chicken! – surprised me and showed up in time for dinner! He said he finally managed to get away so we could spend time together but he adores Laura too so he didn’t mind her there at all.

Anyway, to cut a long story short, we got extremely wasted. I mean, really drunk. That’s what happens when you have an incredible collection of wine right in your own home and membership in a wine club to enjoy it – Steven’s proudly got a collection in the basement that rivals Trattoria Dell’Arte’s wine room. I remember at one point, we were all laughing so hard that Laura fell off the couch and Steven right on top of her! It was hilarious.

What was even funnier was waking up in the living room chair. That’s the worst feeling when you wake up on the couch in the middle of the night. The television’s still on and has some infomercial of the British guy selling you a food processor you can put on your keychain, the dog is licking your big toe and you have an imprint of carnations on your cheek from the high-relief floral pattern on the throw pillows. Then you have to get out of your clothes and get into bed. Yuck. Laura and Steven were both passe out on the couch. I checked the time: too late for Laura to catch a train back into the city. So I pulled Steven up and dragged him (and myself for that matter) up to bed. I went back down and stretched Laura on the couch and put a blanket on her. Thank God I was coherent enough to gulp some Advil before passing out. Still have a headache.

I love Sunday mornings. Fluffing up the pillows, spreading out the New York Times and trading sections with Steven. I’m one of those who reads the first couple of paragraphs of articles and then moves on. It’s always with the intention of reading the entire article, but that intention never lasts. Do you do that? I think you have to be over 60 to read the whole Sunday Times. Page by page. Steven takes the front section and Sports and Business. I’m a Metro and Arts & Entertainment gal. Either way, it’s worth the money. I love Sundays, skimming the paper. It’s our one moment every week that we can both count on being together. Anyway, Whiskey somehow gets into the room, and we tease him by kissing and making him bark and jump all over the place, going crazy with jealousy! It only gets a little awkward when he bounces in right when we’re in the middle of our own…jumping and he gets tangled in all the wrong places… then it’s back to the doggie spa… okay, that is definitely too much information!

Well, it’s raining hard this morning, despite the heat, and when I went outside to pick up the Times, it was soaked, even in its plastic bag. Steven and Laura were both still passed out and I saw we're out of OJ and Advil - two key ingredients to curing a hangover. So I decided to make a pharmacy run.

When I came to a red light and all of a sudden, I made the window wiper stop and turned off the engine. There were no cars around and I just wanted to hear that sound of the rain pelting on the window, as if wanting to bust into my car and onto me. And I felt so protected. There was no way that rain was going to come in no matter how hard it was beating down. And I felt like I could’ve stayed that way forever! But then, a car honked and I was forced to restart the engine, hit the window wiper on and just move forward. And I did. As I always do.

Right now, Steven’s upstairs, laying in bed, reading. He says he puked while I was out at the pharmacy, he's that hung-over. He told me Laura called a cab to catch the train back into the city because she had a brunch to go to. I nuked up some chicken broth and he seems to be sucking it down. I hate to sound selfish but if he doesn’t feel better, it’s going to suck. Rather, there’ll be no sucking at all. Not even sucking up to Steven because on top of him working all the time, he now has to get sick?? I guess tonight will consist of re-heated jerk chicken, more Chardonnay and maybe some Judy Garland. Maybe “Girl Crazy” will be on TV.