You just know you've seriously goofed when you check your mailbox first thing and find a single word message suggesting that you are an adroit practitioner of solo sex.
You may glance at the empty bottle of Ardbeg and remark to yourself that you were sure it was at least half full. You may even be taken aback by the fact that your previously virgo intacta bottle of Bruichladdich has also taken a serious hit.
You may think to yourself, "My god! What have I done?"
But whatever you might do, do not...I repeat, NOT...attempt to retrace your steps in cyberspace. The embarrassment will be too, too acute.
"I didn't, did I?"
I bloody well did.
Oh, well. To those who fell victim to my Friday night frazzle, as recipients of either the maudlin or irrationally ranting and offensive, please help yourself to the usual ameliorations and apologies from the box in the corner. There should be one or two left.
Now, pray excuse me while I dissolve.