Your sheets are wet. Jesus, did you piss the bed again? And why does your foot feel like it’s on fire?
You untangle yourself, lift back the covers, and realize you’ve drunk-sweated so hard you’ve created a damp, you-shaped outline on your bedding. You head to the sink and gulp down a glass of water, trying to cool the alcohol-fueled fires raging inside you.
You’re not nauseated yet, but you can feel the leading edge of it, the harbinger of nausea to come. You climb back into your bed, rolling over to the wrong side to avoid the clammy area, hoping that sleep will wipe out the feeling of shame and self-disgust tying your stomach in knots.
Why did you drink so much? It’s not like your night was great–none of your friends wanted to haul over to your neighborhood, so you just wound up bingeing Cheers episodes on Netflix while you worked your way through most of a bottle of vodka. And you never even liked Cheers.
You should never drink again. That’s your new plan. But even now, in the throes of a deep guilt-hangover, you know you won’t stick to it. God, you suck so much.
You’re just drifting back into the sweet self-annihilation of sleep when you hear your phone ping. You flick the screen; it’s an email from your work list-serv.
Looks like the storm predictions were more bluster than blizzard.
God, you can hear your boss’s terrible uh-uh-uh tic of a laugh even through the screen.
Public transit is still up and running, so we expect to see all of you in the office this morning. We don’t even mind if you’re a little late!
Dress warm, and see you soon!
Normally that email would enrage you, but you still feel so disgusted with yourself and your joyless, self-inflicted misery that you can’t even muster the energy to consider fighting back. You know that “little late” line is bullshit, though; if you’re going to make it through what looks like about two feet of snow so far, you’re going to have to get out the door soon.
If you want to walk a bit further and wait in a warm train station for the more reliable option, click here.
If you want to take the bus, which is closer to your house, but will mean waiting outside in this shit, click here.