It’s back to work for me and millions of other people today. It wasn’t so bad. Last night was a definite chill out time, came back from seeing Cloverfield, and I finished reading the days papers. Almost done with the latest New Yorker so I might be up to date next week when the new issue comes in. The tooth still acting up a bit, not haywire like it was Saturday night but I took precautions. Bill had a bottle of whiskey, Canadian Mist that has been on the shelf since we moved here, and I decided to numb out the tooth with a shot or two. It certainly did the trick, took the edge off my mouth.

I settled in for the night, watching the Grammy’s which is something I hadn’t done in years. Just because the music I generally listen to doesn’t make the cut. But being it was the 50th broadcast I thought something might be happening. Kanye West was amazing with his Daft Punk single, Stronger, was just really good, almost as good as Ricky Martin when he blew the roof off. Not that I’m a fan of Ricky Martin’s music, but he sure is easy on the eyes. He’s also the second musician that I had an erotic dream about. The first was Ruben Blades years and years ago. Kayne West also did a number about his mother. It was written before she passed away a few months ago but it was touching nonetheless.

The Wire came on at 9:00 and I switched over while recording the rest of the awards program. The Wire was once again, intense. Just waiting for it all to come down. Marlo should be getting his, but since this show is relatively true to life, Marlo might get away with it all. Omar, after jumping four or five flights to the ground wound up hiding in the same building in the janitor’s room with a busted ankle. And McNulty kept getting drunk while the reporter kept making up stories though the noose is tightening on his neck with each keystroke. After that hour long trip to the depths of Baltimore, I switched back to the Grammy’s.

I did catch earlier, The Time who were great, playing with Rhianna who sang Umbrella, her big hit single from last year. And Amy Winehouse was very good via satellite from London. I went to bed after watching Herbie Hancock win his Album of the Year, River: The Joni Letters which are his interpretations of Joni Mitchell’s songs. I guess. Fell fast asleep, thanks to the one Advil PM and slept quite soundly. I woke up around 6:30 which is a half hour later than I should. I was in the middle of a dream where I was being chased around a beer hall/refugee camp by none other than Siouxsie from Siouxsie and the Banshees. Normally I’d probably stop and chat but she was pissed off at me for some reason and every time I would close a door on her she would blow the door down with her singing. I woke up groggy and tried to get back to the dream after texting Linda the receptionist that I was going to be late.

Plus it was 10 degrees outside and I couldn’t deal with that right away. No more Siouxsie dream as I lay there trying to get back to the beer hall. I got out of bed fifteen minutes later and that’s when the day began for me. I told Bill about what was going on with my tooth and how I opened the bottle of Canadian Mist whiskey, all covered in greasy dust. Even through an online chat I knew something was wrong and there was. It turned out Bill was saving that bottle for a special occasion. I wondered what kind of special occasion would it take for someone who rarely drinks, his limit is usually one pint of Guinness, to open a bottle of whiskey?

I asked why the bottle was for such a special occasion and he said that some guy he was trying to date/get laid/whatever gave it to him at a Hope and Remembrance gathering and that’s when he wanted decided to save the Canadian Mist for a rainy day. He’s still upset and trying to forget it. There is still more than 2/3 left and I lit a candle, pouring wax over the top of it so he could reopen and break the new seal should he ever cross paths with the enabler of Hope and Remembrance.