Saturday morning. Woke up early after a restless sleep. Something was not right. Laid in bed and assessed the damage. Stomach not right, hollow-feeling, yet also nauseous. Head throbbing. Strong desire to remain horizontal, hide under the covers and never get out again. What on earth did I do last night. I'm trying to remember and then I realise I did nothing. It's not the alcohol, it's not a hangover. It's worse. It's the day I never thought I'd get to, it was always so far away, a yet now, here I am. 40.
And how will I be spending this day I hear you ask? Cleaning, washing, making beds. Get drunk tonight I hear you shout. Alas no, tomorrow I have to get up and do more cleaning, washing, making beds. Maybe Monday.
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