It's a Privilege

I woke up on Friday, May 24, and finished off a bottle of vodka. I then went to work and was excused at about 10:30. Although my boss insisted someone else drive, I drove home by myself, stopping for a bottle on the way. My shame and remorse were so great that the only option I was entertaining was suicide. I went to an afternoon haircut appointment and continued to drink afterwards. At home, I picked up a gun I had stolen and held it to my head; I couldn't pull the trigger. I shot a round of buckshot into the ceiling instead. I got into my car and drove to a bar ten miles away. Later, someone was kind enough to drive me home. I was in a blackout and came to a few miles from my home. So I decided to return to my automobile, which I promptly crashed into a parked car. I flipped it on impact, and my forearm was crushed. I came to in the hospital to find that my arm had been amputated.