At the end of every work day what I want most is a glass of wine. What I need to do most is to go for a run. Sometimes wants and needs conflict and I consume half a glass of wine before lacing up my shoes.

Sometimes this is a good idea. Other times I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast and I’m approximately the size of a large tween. This has the expected outcome. The following is a note I left for Roscoe written with Sharpie marker on an envelope offering 2 for 1 pizza coupons.

Dear Roscoe,

I’ve gone running. Drunk.

I’ll try not to cross any major roads.

Love you,

The Great Unwashed.

When I arrived home Roscoe was quite upset. Not over my inability to run in a straight line but over the company I keep on runs. Occasionally while jogging through my favourite park I am chased by homeless people and meth heads. He argued that these people made running in an inebriated state a poor choice.

I countered that I went running in my second favourite park, which also happens to be the meth head’s second favourite park, so they weren’t there to make haphazard attempts to keep up with my wobbly pace. Besides I can’t figure out why Roscoe is so worried about a few disheveled people chasing me when I have yet to be caught.

Part two of the award post is coming, however I did show up in church only half dressed last weekend, so that story needs to be told first, some things are so embarrassing that they need to be celebrated.