Got a bit drunk the night before my surgery.
Paperwork said not to drink.
I thought, if I don’t wake up,
and don’t visit my favorite pub and have
at least one Manhattan, what’s the point
of not having a damn drink.
So we went to the pub.
The next morning I told the anesthesiologist,
“I had a beer last night.”
“Yea? What time was that?”
“Around seven.”
“You’ll be fine.” He smiled.
“And by a beer I mean a few drinks.”
“Eh. You’ll be fine.”
And I was.
I don’t ask permission to live my life.
-M. Taggart
Cheers. To thine own self be true.
Couldn’t have said (or done it) better myself ππ€
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Letβs go find a good pub π€£
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*gets coat* ππ€
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if one day you will cross Italy and Lake Como, a beer is ready for you, in my favorite Pub
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It just so happens that my wife would like to revisit Italy. We love Pubs. Iβll check Lake Como on google maps
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Ok π π
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