I had an early morning today. Upon realizing that my alarm was not going to turn off on its own, I reached over, turned the noise off and stretched. The next ten seconds would dictate whether my day would be pleasant or not.

I felt great. My proactive approach to drinking water at key points during the previous night’s housewarming festivities was paying off. Hallelujah.

Michelle and I had whipped together a housewarming event and arranged it to take place on a Saturday night when neither of us had anything pressing (beyond Michelle’s trip to the Patriots game today) on our Sunday agendas. Since this doesn’t happen often, we wanted to take advantage; we invited over friends and hoped that an entertaining evening would ensue.

Whenever we have people to the apartment for official gatherings, we try to implement something a little quirky or at least unexpected. For Girls Night In, we asked those who were interested to paint glasses that we’d picked up for the occasion, explaining that this would guarantee that whenever they came back to see us, they would have their very own glassware from which to drink.

Last night, we posted a note above a small table in the kitchen. Michelle’s point-and-shoot waited below the sign, which explained that revelers were encouraged to snap party shots and any point during the festivities. The results would be posted online in the coming days. We thought people could have fun with it.

Which they did. Looking at the shots today, I’m still cracking up, plus it gives an opportunity to see what else was going on as I was engaged in conversation or whatnot.

And we have pictures of the jar of Georgia Moon that was brought to the event.

Michelle and I picked up a pair of jar mugs when we first moved in, and I’ve joked ever since that they were our moonshine drinkin’ jars. Once moonshine (of sorts) entered the premises, the mugs were brought out and, for a few brave souls, the corn whiskey was sampled. The best way I can describe it would be fire coursing down your throat. The liquor also has the smell of…I suppose turpentine is the closest thing to it. It was hilarious before, but even more so after a friend decided that the natural thing to do would be to drop some Swedish Fish into the jar and let ’em soak.

So now we have a bottle of moonshine with soaked fish that I’m convinced would, if eaten, result in a quick and relatively painless death. And I love it.

Now, without anything (ANYTHING) to do on this gorgeous October Sunday in New England, I am going to open the windows, let the autumn breeze into my apartment, and sprawl out on the couch in my favorite cozy college sweatshirt, watch football and savor the anticipation of my randomly taken day off tomorrow.

This is a face of contentment.