I went to sleep with two bottles of Riesling and now there’s Riesling on my breath and when I got out of bed this morning, my mouth was dry and by mistake, I banged my head on the headboard and tripped over my Birkenstocks and I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad hangover. At breakfast, the Bedfellow ate a Cortland apple and my Facebook friends posted photos of delicious brunch, but all I had was a cup of black coffee before I started to feel queasy. I think I’ll move to Paris and stop drinking. . . .