This is a picture about morning hair and obvious freckles, two things the world doesn’t see on a very consistent basis. I’m laying here after drinking probably 7 glasses of wine last night (or 4? … I have no idea, honestly) trying to conjure up the ability to get my ass in gear to start doing Sunday business. Right now, “Sunday business” consists of the question do I go out to find a breakfast sandwich now, or do I starve for the next hour when it’s a passable time to get lunch?