I feel absolutely terrible… I really do. I’ve had a terrible night’s sleep and I have a stinking headache, my stomach hurts, I’m hungry but can’t be sure I can face food: I have a hangover.
Yesterday I discovered that over the course of January I had lost a total of 9 lbs (quite a result) and as #DryJanuary had ended, I suddenly concluded that I was actually He-Man and went a little bit crazy. I have an excessive personality. Whether it be collecting CDs, running, eating or drinking, I tend to do too much of it. Cue the enormous Chinese takeaway, bottle of red wine, half bottle (!) of Jim Beam, random bags/packets of sweet/spicy nibbly things and I present the resultant mess of a man writing this blog.
I want to be in bed, between the cool sheets, nursing my hangover and feeling sorry for myself: I won’t allow it… I’m going to bottle this feel-bad feeling by sitting here and recording how if feels. Monumentally terrible doesn’t go half way. Although it was fantastic listening to old tunes too loud, hitting my guitar (one could hardly call it playing in that state), losing control of my legs (again) and reminiscing with the wife about when we were 22, I’m really not convinced it’s worth the trade-off. No, it wasn’t… Isn’t… I’m not even sure I know what I’m saying.
This time, I’m going to pay attention.