July 01, 2007

The morning after the morning after

I am getting old. It's the only conclusion possible at this point.

The night I met Kurt, I was out at the bar, drinking and flirting with this REALLY CUTE GUY (ohmygodhedrivesaPorsche) until 3 in the morning. He dropped me off at my friend's house, where my car was, and I napped on her couch until I was able to drive at about 5:30 or so. Then I went home, napped a little more, showered and headed to work by 8:30.

And I was fine. A little sleepy, maybe, but fine. No headache, no suspicions that something had died and putrefied in my mouth over night, no sudden dizzy spells, hot flashes and unsightly burping (too much information, hmm?).

When Kurt came into the bookstore to see me at about 11 that day, I was chipper, excited and flattered that he remembered my name. And I was ready for another long night out drinking and partying into the wee hours.

Without having to take a nap.

I am not that girl anymore, sad to say. My wild night o'wacky fun was Friday, and I was home and unconscious by 12:30 A.M. I crept through the day yesterday, wincing at the splinters of daylight stabbing my brain all afternoon and napped for two hours before dinner. I treated my hangover with Tylenol, water, coffee, food, Tylenol and finally... a glass of wine. Nothing like the hair of the dog that bit ya, right?

We went over to our friends house last night for some grill burgers. It's a bit of a tradition for us to hang out there with the kids. We sit around and drink a bit and let them wind down with the TV and toys until they pass out, usually carrying their sleepy little bodies to the car close to midnight.

We were home before 10.

And now it's the morning after the morning after and I'm just starting to see my full recovery hovering on the horizon. Nothing actually aches anymore, I have finally brushed my teeth enough to clear away the last of the roadkill, and my stomach seems to have settled down and resumed it's normal programming schedule.

I am getting old, my friends. I just can't bring it like I used to and I definitely can't bounce back like the night life never happened. I feel like someone should be responsible, right? What happened, what changed in my life that weakened me so? I'm sure you can see the connection, right? Right? The moment where it all turned around? Five years later and I'm a hung-over-sad-sack for days after the fact?

Kurt. Exactly, y'all.

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