Lighten my load

"How long have we been out here?" I vaguely heard her ask the group. I looked up into the darkness of the night, not really sure myself. We had departed the restaurant for the evening, but several had remained in the parking lot to swap some additional storied stories about each others now infamous lives. Those that had once been our servers and cooks were now exiting the restaurant, passing us by as they headed home from their shifts.

I had that woozy feeling - like I either had too much of the epicurean delights or servings of coke at the restaurant. As such I stood there, disassociated to the conversation at hand, not really caring who asked the question, nor the answer. I was thinking of something more important, more purposeful for me. I was pondering if I really could have enough coke to feel woozy. Nope, I thought after a brief yet meaningful introspective moment, It must have been too much food.

"Hey, LP," she nudged, "You've got that dazed look. Everything ok?"

"Yeah," I sighed, my shoulders dropping slightly as I let out a woosh from deep down. "I was just thinking that these leftovers are getting too heavy to hold." As usual I was contemplative, yet realistic about my situation at hand ... both figuratively and literally. It was, after all, two whole slice of pizza that I was holding.

"Hmmm," I heard her say with mock empathy. Then, pausing to add amidst the laughter, "But really it should be more like: You know you're out of shape when you're standing in the middle of the parking lot after a meal chatting with your friends, leftovers in hands and you say 'Damn, this pizza is getting too heavy to hold. I should just eat it to lighten my load."

Ahh, nothing like a group of friends to call it like it really is.