Hammered

I feel dreadful. I’ve been poisoned. I’ve wasted my entire Saturday with a hangover. I’ve been vomiting all day. Was having a perfectly pleasant evening with friends, not sure where it all went wrong? I suspect when proceedings shifted to the spa pool was the beginning of the long downhill slide. I seem to remember a number of champagne toasts going on. My husband reports the spa is looking very murky today. He had to find his missing glasses in there by feel alone.

We had an argument this morning, he felt I’d deliberately misled him by saying I threw up in the sink, whereas actually because said fitting was in the bathroom it is called a basin. Hence the undigested mushroom he found there came as a nasty shock. I haven’t been this hungover since my early twenties and I hope this will be the last time. I can’t imagine being sick like this as an old lady. What would the other rest home residents say?

So stupid. Not only did our friends have to get their own breakfast this morning, clean up last nights considerable mess (although the floor is still disturbingly sticky) and leave without saying goodbye – just a sad little note – but I also didn’t get to the airport to pick up the girls for their first trip home from Uni. I am a bad mother. Oh God I feel so wretched. So many regrets.

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Two empty bottles of Moët by the spa pool

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5:45pm two pieces of toast and half a glass of orange juice. The storm is passing.

Won’t see the girls at all today, as they’re going out to a party. I told them not to drink too much as they might regret it the next day, but they boasted gleefully that they never get hangovers. Their time will come.

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My husband just offered to make me Mexican chicken for dinner, and just the thought of it has triggered a relapse. Back to bed.

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SUNDAY

So, the phrase is “super dusty” if you’re a young person, apparently – according to my daughter who was up till 5am this morning. I tried to tell her to do what I say, not what I do – but she was having none of it.