I have a hangover….I mean a worse hangover than usual. There’s not a day that I can remember that I’ve woken up feeling refreshed and leapt out of bed feeling enthusiastic and ready to face the world.
This morning I lay in bed and watched 10 minutes of “Big Brother” (which I loathe) whilst conducting the routine check on ‘where does it hurt’, simply because I didn’t have the energy to change channels. (I take a tiny crumb of solace from some wise words: “I feel sorry for people who don’t drink, when they wake up in the morning that’s the best they’re going to feel all day”, I can’t remember who said them, but thanks whoever you are).
And, sweet irony, I’ve no idea why or how this happens, but having a hangover makes me feel randy. (Maybe I’m a masochist?). Doesn’t figure, a head full of cotton wool, a stomach that I’d like to put on a spin cycle in the washing machine, and the raging horn….
(did you hear about the masochist who said to the sadist: “hurt me”. The sadist thought for a moment and said: “no”)