That's like a full work day.

Last night, I went out for a brief happy hour pit-stop on my way home from the law school. I figured, a slice, a brew, and then two episodes of the O.C. Sweet. Well, a slice turned into two, a beer turned into 8 pitchers, and 6 p.m. suddenly became 2 a.m. No O.C. to be had (I was advised that it was a repeat. This best be true). After the rest of the law school dispersed in time for the O.C., an unlikely foursome remained, rocking into the wee hours of the morning. The fifth member came at the very end of the night. When we were considering whether or not to get that ONE LAST PITCHER at last call, in response to my comment that we had been there since 6, the fifth member said, "Damn. 7 and a half hours? That's like a full work day. Except no lunch break." Gosh, when you put it that way, it's almost shameful. The night just flew by. I remember laughing a lot. That sure was nice.