There was a time, not that long ago, when I would stumble into the kitchen, groggy, after too much time spent awake in the wee hours of the morning. There would be dirty glasses in the sink and a corkscrew on the counter with the last cork of the night still pierced through its centre.
It would explain the headache. And the weary eyes.
This morning I had a strange deja vu of those mornings when I stumbled into the kitchen. I guess my wife couldn't open the Children's Tylenol bottle at some point in the middle of the night. It explained the headache. And the weary eyes.
Sometimes the more things change the more they stay the same.