I did my best to make sure that the two mini-kegs (“bubbas”) of beer (Sleeman and Holsten – not Blue…) that we’d bought for our Labour Day Eve party were finished by the end of the night. I was even more determined than I would have been had the bulk of the people who’d said they were going to attend actually made it. (Too many people begged off or were no-shows altogether – without any warning or contact – for it to have really been a party, rather it was more like just a small get-together.) In other words, I drank too much. I paid for it by retiring earlier than I would have liked and getting up in the middle of the morning for some porcelein throne worship. (That particular deity can be a harsh taskmaster.)

Still, in all, I enjoyed myself. At least, what I can remember of it I enjoyed…