There’s something special about three in the morning.
Especially when it’s presented by an ambitiously enjoyed bottle of delicious pink moscato from your once-estranged parents.
It’s a dangerous and manic time that presents so many possibilities that always come across as precisely as constructive as a burst of energy on an aeroplane.
This time is different, though. You wanna know why? Because this one time I choose to do something with that energy. Just This Once.
This is not the First Night of the Rest Of My Life. In fact, I think the only way to reach the Rest Of My Life is to make productive choices as difficult and wholly one-off occasions, without any commitment to changing myself for the better every time in the future. I’m not a Rest Of My Life kind of woman, I think.
I’m a Just This Once, type.
I think that’s a better fit.