bleary

By mid-June 2020, there were already signs that our bleary-eyed re-emergence was premature.

An electrician looked under the porch to check the electrical box and saw bleary bear eyes blinking back.

In the downstairs exhibit hall, attendees of all ages slumped on the white sofas like bleary-eyed rag dolls.

It was just Mike Royko and his pal, Big Shack, and whatever their bleary musings happened to be that night three years ago.

We convened at the White Horse Tavern, under the glum and bleary eyes of Dylan Thomas, Norman Mailer, and Jack Kerouac.

Shots of a bleary-eyed William leaving a London club at the weekend in today's Daily Mail.

The party scene grew and grew, and many a morning session was attended by bleary-eyed veterans of all-night binges.

I found him first, a little withered, dried-up old fellow, wrinkled-faced and bleary-eyed and tottery.

He was not a pleasant object to look upon, with his straggling hair, and his blotched face, and his bloodshot bleary eyes.

He was a very big, large-boned hound, gray with age and wrinkled and lame, and bleary-eyed.

The bleary red eyes glanced at her keenly, and appeared to appreciate her disappointment.

He paused with a grimy finger in the middle of a column of figures, and peered at Gipsy with a pair of red, bleary eyes.