or, in this case … a squirrel.
Recently, Dan and I had a visitor that decided to stay for drinks on the veranda. We had inadvertently left a small amount of whiskey in a glass on our patio table, and this little critter decided to help himself, and then wallow in his intoxication with a nap:
He didn’t flinch as we inched closer to him, but apparently we crossed the line. He finally woke up and stared us down, but still didn’t feel like fleeing the scene of the crime.
He wobbled around the table for a few more minutes, but finally scurried off. He hasn’t been back since – I don’t think he likes our selection of spirits.
Just goes to show, that sayings aren’t always the most accurate. From now on, I’m going to say “drunk as a squirrel.”