So remember how a few years ago I got that invitation to the beer party in Atlanta? WELL GUESS WHAT HAPPENED AGAIN.
I got a little… well. I got a *lot* drunk on Friday night. The kids are out of town and apparently I felt like I needed to make up for all the alcoholic beverages I miss out on when I’m busy momming it up. Saturday morning had me in full on panic mode when I woke up with a missing tooth and a tiger in my hotel room.
Wait. Nope, that was a movie.
I woke up to a number of baffling things, though, the most confusing one being a confirmation email for a hotel reservation in Savannah next weekend sent at 1:44 in the morning, precisely the middle of my not-finest hour that night.
PANIC ENSUES and I almost cancelled a reservation for a woman with the same name as me. That’s right, it was another email meant for The Other Candace, my alter ego in Atlanta. So I forwarded it to her with an explanation of why I nearly ruined her trip.
At the time of this publishing, I have not yet heard back from The Other Candace. She might not be quite as amused at the mix-up as I am.