Because "happy hour" is not a state of mind

I told the teenagers today that I wish I could just....I don't know....like, black out, between the hours of four and seven-thirty every evening. It occurred to me recently that that's why the traditional happy hour in bars starts at 5:00. Could it be, I wondered, that this time of day is as harrowing as hell for everybody?

The problem lies in the fact that I don't go to bars, have no interest in going to bars and am always way too out-of-sorts, lazy and grouchy to haul out the blender to make myself a bucket-sized margarita every afternoon.

Uuuuuugggghhhhhhhhh.....

It's 7:25 and I'm still looking at the world with narrowed eyes and tight lips.