LAST NIGHT YOU went out. It may have been planned, it may have been an accident, but one thing’s for sure, you drank some drinks.
Clearly last night’s carry on was a mistake. Moderation, and all that, but unfortunately there’s no going back. Today you are hungover at work.
Here are the 11 characteristics of your day.
You wake up, bleary eyed and stagger to the toilet trying to piece together the end of last night, giggling over the hilarious things that happened.
You actually don’t feel too bad. Maybe this will be ok!
You throw together an outfit, probably one you’ve never worn before, possibly inappropriate for work, but hey! You’re going to work! And you feel a little loose!
Upon arrival, you’re still giggling about anything and everything, and babbling on about your thoughts to anyone who’ll listen.
Unfortunately, the giddiness does not last forever. In fact, after the babbling ends there will be a long period of silence.
You’ll probably lean on your hand, elbow on your desk and zone out entirely.
Uh oh. You are not feeling so well. Suddenly you know that this is all about to go sour.
It’s only 11am and you can feel the tightness around your brain. Suddenly you realise just how badly things can go here, and fear wraps its fingers around your heart.
Painkillers. Beige food. Fizzy drinks. You run to the shop to procure every item you think might fend off what you know is coming.
Alas it’s too late.
Your head is banging. You’ver developed a sweaty sheen and you can’t even manage to swallow water.
There are hours of the day to go and you are genuinely afraid for your life.
What were you thinking? You’ve heard people say ‘I’m never drinking again’, but you are seriously considering that course of action.
Last night was stupid. You are stupid. Alcohol is stupid. You deserve this pain for being so stupid.
The toilet is your only possibility for escape, no matter how brief.
You lean your throbbing head against the cool tiles and wonder how long you can stay in there before people start to question your absence.
If there’s enough room, you may even lie down on the ground, closing your eyes and praying desperately for relief.
The intolerably slow passage of time
How is it only four o’clock? HOW?
It’s finally home-time, but to be honest you can’t even be happy about it.
You hate yourself, and it’s all you can do to drag your virtual carcass out the door.
NEVER AGAIN. NEVER. AGAIN.