My Last Slip Was Off a Horse

Most of us wish to remember our last binge. Me too. I was a slipper. My last slip was off a horse. I had pitched for three days and then I got pitched--straight off a horse's back. I came in, as usual, at the crack of dawn. I stalled into the stall to hiccup a drunken good morning to my daughter's new Palomino. This mare was not only new but she was as wild as a March hare. My fifteen-year-old daughter had "broken" the filly but the horse evidently sensed a difference between the feel of my lovely sober daughter and her inebriated dad.