surviving

It can be overwhelming. All that gratitude.

Tonight I'm grateful to know that you're never without a good man when you can bed with one of your favorites.

He seldom got downright drunk, but he did enjoy feeling misty along about sundown, keeping his mood good with tasteful swigs as the sky to the west began to color up. The whiskey didn't damage his intellectual powers any, but it did make him more tolerant of the raw sorts he had to live with: Call and Pea Eye and Deets, young Newt, and old Bolivar, the cook.
McMurtry's Lonesome Dove, p18