I tried writing this whilst hungover but I am far too useless and my brain just didn’t work.
We’ve all been there, it’s 4am and you’ve just burst through your door. You’re wiping the ketchup off your jeans and praising the Uber driver that joined in in the full rendition of ABBA’s, The Winner Takes It All. Everything is great, you’re trying to find things to cover in hummus and thinking back to your killer dance moves. You know that you should take off your make up and drink loads of water before bed but you’re only human. How bad can it be in the morning anyway?! You stumble upstairs and fall into bed, praying that you’ll fall asleep before the room starts spinning.
Waking up and discovering your cruel fate..
You open your eyes and for a slight moment, forget that you even drank last night. Your brain feels fuzzy so you search your memories for what happened – you visualise yourself doing shots of Sambuca and trying to act like the next Beyoncé. Anxiety immediately hits, who did you speak to? What did you do? WERE YOU USING SNAPCHAT? You reach for your phone and begin scrolling desperately, checking for any signs that you embarrassed yourself. You discover that your social media is drunk-idiot free and you don’t have any incriminating messages, curious as to where your phone was all evening – you begin to relax. Everything is fine, how embarrassing could you have been?
Your body starts to reject itself..
You’ve been staring at your phone for an hour now, you’re trying to gather energy to get in the shower whilst watching the tenth video of The Ellen Show. You start to wonder whether you’ll ever be able to move again, rolling over quickly answers that for you. No, you shan’t. You’re now stuck in this bed forever – you gin guzzling mess.
Honestly though, it’s time to leave your bed..
You crawl to the end, dip a toe out, recoil and brace yourself. You can do this. You try and convince yourself that this is going to be fine, you’ve been to the toilet a million times in your lifetime. You leave your sanctuary, the air around you feels different. It feels as though you haven’t been to the toilet in a decade (even though you spent half your time on one the previous evening.) You realise how much you find urinating a chore and run back to bed.
Accepting you’re doing nothing all day..
At this point you’ve realised that you’re not going to get anything done today – you get comfy and start mentally planning what you’ll stare blankly at for the rest of the day. You choose a series you’ve watched at least 6 times before and cocoon yourself in your covers. Movement is overrated anyway.
It’s completely acceptable to have three meals for lunch, right?
You haven’t eaten in ten hours and you convince yourself that that’s the reason for your nausea. Definitely not the 6 jagerbombs you had last night – or the undercooked “food” from the dodgy takeaway near da club. Looking through Just Eat, you realise that you want an array of dishes from the Chinese with a side of fries, a small pizza and a taco. You toy with the idea of going to some kind of mixed-cuisine buffet but who are you kidding, you can’t go out in public today.
Death is imminent
It’s definitely been 55 minutes since you’ve ordered your takeaway, you’ve been waiting for half a decade, your stomach is eating itself.
You try and get really interested in the 30th episode of Friends that you’ve watched today but it’s no good – you’ve already seen it 8 times and your eyes keep wondering over to the time. What if the restaurant haven’t seen your order? Maybe they haven’t even accepted it…You double check. They have. And they’re due in another 30 minutes.
Just when you feel as though you’re actually going to die, the doorbell rings. You sprint downstairs – completely forgetting about the gin demon waiting to burst out of your stomach – you have a mixture of emotions, is this delivery man your hero or the person that has been withholding your fries for too long? You get to the door, remember that you’re socially inept today, grab the bag and shut down any conversation. You grab a fork and scurry back into your hole. Feeling uplifted, you begin to inhale your food – you question if you’ve ever been this happy before.
Maybe you could do something after all…
You’re starting to get fidgety and the guilt over the fact you’ve been lying in bed all day is getting too real. You text people to see what they’re doing, this could be a great day after all! You quickly realise that it’s 9pm and that’s when you realise the worst news of all…you have work tomorrow.
SOS!! I can’t human.
How are you actually going to go to work? Your brain is still functioning on a very minimal level, you’ve forgotten what life was like outside of your bedroom and the memories from last night are too raw. How are you supposed to look your boss in the eye and have a real life meeting when all you can think of is a mental image of you dancing on a stage to R Kelly – Ignition, only 72 hours before.
Sleep is the answer to everything
You figure that the only way you’re going to pass as a functional human tomorrow is if you wash the gross from your body, get into new pyjamas (that aren’t covered in the delicious takeaway you wish you still had) and go to bed. Two hours ago.
Time has gone too quickly, you’re seriously considering quitting your job and spending the rest of your days as a free spirit but then you think about rent. Showering is a strange experience and once it’s over, you feel fresh as a daisy. Annoyed at the fact that you didn’t do this hours ago, you get back into bed and start preparing the pep talk that will get you through work tomorrow.
Daydreaming about daiquiri’s and bank holidays, you finally fall asleep.