the march of time
I've officially had two hangovers at age 30, and both of them have been unbelievably miserable. In general, they've been getting worse over the past year, but the most recent ones have been really bad. Last night, during my sprint home from the bars (it was a really weird night, and power walking felt really good), I acquired a particularly nasty headache. I knew I was in for it.
I woke up, miraculously, on the pleather love seat with the Bloomberg News Network blaring its nauseating mix of headlines, stock market figures and other such stats. I really don't remember putting that on, but I may have knocked into the remote in my sleep. It was 6AM.
Immediately, I moved to the bathroom to take a dump and got really paranoid about whether or not I was about to throw up. I hustled out of the bathroom, put on my shoes and went outside. I'm not sure why, but I've made up my mind that if I am going to throw up, I'd rather do it outside like an animal than inside like a real human being. I found a good spot in the back corner, right by the fence and between two trees. It never happened. I ended up staying out side for a good hour, taking in the morning air like some kind of nature person would. It was really comforting and meditative. I'm staunchly anti-vomiting, so I won't force myself to puke even if it will make me feel better. I'd rather ride it out, which I think stems from my guilt-ridden Catholic upbringing.
I came back in the house to turn off my alarm clock and ended up sitting on my bedroom floor with my back up against my bed. I may have dozed off once or twice before I got on the bed and sat with my back against the wall. Then, I pulled my pillows closer to me and rested my head on them, laying down on my side, my feet, still in shoes were on the floor. I was fully dressed, in a hoodie. I slept, on and off, until after 1PM. When I woke up for reals, I found that all that time outside had caused me to track mud and leaves into my bedroom. I watched some college football and moved minimally.
So yeah, I didn't go out tonight. The shame that would come from spending another day in the same state would be too much to bear at my advanced age. I opted, instead, to play a lot of Final Fantasy XII, which is really coming along nicely. I spent most of the day on the pleather love seat, but around 11PM, my own sloth became just as troubling. I went downtown to get an ice cream Sunday and deposit the checks my roommates gave me for the energy, water and cable bills. I also picked up a six-pack of Lagunitas Brown Shugga', a winter seasonal beer, which isn't going down very well right now. Better luck tomorrow, I guess.
I woke up, miraculously, on the pleather love seat with the Bloomberg News Network blaring its nauseating mix of headlines, stock market figures and other such stats. I really don't remember putting that on, but I may have knocked into the remote in my sleep. It was 6AM.
Immediately, I moved to the bathroom to take a dump and got really paranoid about whether or not I was about to throw up. I hustled out of the bathroom, put on my shoes and went outside. I'm not sure why, but I've made up my mind that if I am going to throw up, I'd rather do it outside like an animal than inside like a real human being. I found a good spot in the back corner, right by the fence and between two trees. It never happened. I ended up staying out side for a good hour, taking in the morning air like some kind of nature person would. It was really comforting and meditative. I'm staunchly anti-vomiting, so I won't force myself to puke even if it will make me feel better. I'd rather ride it out, which I think stems from my guilt-ridden Catholic upbringing.
I came back in the house to turn off my alarm clock and ended up sitting on my bedroom floor with my back up against my bed. I may have dozed off once or twice before I got on the bed and sat with my back against the wall. Then, I pulled my pillows closer to me and rested my head on them, laying down on my side, my feet, still in shoes were on the floor. I was fully dressed, in a hoodie. I slept, on and off, until after 1PM. When I woke up for reals, I found that all that time outside had caused me to track mud and leaves into my bedroom. I watched some college football and moved minimally.
So yeah, I didn't go out tonight. The shame that would come from spending another day in the same state would be too much to bear at my advanced age. I opted, instead, to play a lot of Final Fantasy XII, which is really coming along nicely. I spent most of the day on the pleather love seat, but around 11PM, my own sloth became just as troubling. I went downtown to get an ice cream Sunday and deposit the checks my roommates gave me for the energy, water and cable bills. I also picked up a six-pack of Lagunitas Brown Shugga', a winter seasonal beer, which isn't going down very well right now. Better luck tomorrow, I guess.
2 comments:
Those aren't Rikkets and Yukki, are they? Then who's the chick with the Donnie Darko bunny ears?
RIKKU and YUNA!!! And no, that's not them. The girly looking dude's Vaan, the chick with the bunny ears is Fran and the other girl is Ashe. Ashe is a princess, not that you care, and Fran's a sky pirate and Vaan's just some orphan kid who's had his life torn apart by war. And I don't care how nerdy it sounds, this is the best FF EVAaaarARRRRRRR!!!!11
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