Why I Have Become a Barfly

My mother has grown concerned about my increased drinking habits, wrongly assuming that I was an alcoholic before I left the United States and that the condition of my liver cirrhosis will inevitably continue to atrophy until I am dead before midterms.

Admittedly, I drank on occasion back home, but probably less than my parents and definitely no more than any civilized person might do after they have exceeded the age of 55, because I am boring and basically a 63-year-old version of almost-21.

The fact that I have roughly tripled the regularity of my drinking since my arrival in Europe merely indicates one or both of two things: 1) I don't have three jobs anymore and 2) the beer is cheaper than coffee, soda, and water.

Only the first of these reasons I suppose explains why I have gone to the bar almost every night. The reason I claim now? There's a mouse in my unit, and I live on the ground floor.

I am not freakishly afraid of them or anything, but I definitely don't plan to store food here and my room will become a beacon of cleanliness and everything in which a mouse would not be interested.

Of course, this would all be a lot easier if I had just remembered to pack a cat in my suitcase.


KC said...

no such assumption, thankyouverymuch -- just the requisite parental commentary. too bad you
couldn't pack the cat :-)

russeaime said...

Hey, it's Elizabeth! I'm still marveling over the fact that coffee is the most expensive thing in Europe. And as for the excessive beer drinking, at what other point in your life can you drink as much and not have serious conflict? At least that's what I'd like to think... Although my father's general warning to all college students is "Beware the beer and pizza!"